Paris – November 11, 1937 – 3:08 PM
Claire stared at the open dossier on the worn wooden table. The room — a former book storage space in the back of Madeleine's bookstore — felt too small to contain what that paper now represented.
— "If we publish this," Solène said, "governments will fall. Nations will shut down. There could be... retaliation."
Émile remained silent, as if all his years in war and covert operations no longer offered any useful compass.
Madeleine finally spoke:
— "But if we don't… how many LUX protocols are still out there? How many names are on invisible lists right now?"
Claire closed her eyes. She remembered Camille's gaze. Lorelei's words. The ashes of Paris. And everything still to come.
— "This isn't a choice between right and wrong," she said. "It's between explosion and erosion."
Solène sat across from her.
— "Then you decide."
—
Armand – watching from an alleyway – 3:11 PM
He knew her well enough to be sure:
She would do what was necessary.
Even if it burned her too.
He tossed the cigarette. And started walking.
— "So this is it. We're heading to the end."
—
Le Matin Newsroom – 3:28 PM
The envelope arrived with a single note:
"Don't censor. Just publish. And be ready."
The editor read it.
Took a deep breath.
And shouted downstairs:
— "Print everything. Full. Name, seal, and date."
The next edition would hit the streets before nightfall.
—
Claire stood by the window of the bookstore, watching the sky darken.
She whispered:
— "Now no one can claim ignorance anymore."
And then… silence.
But not peace.
The world had been warned.