Chapter 9 - The Christmas Tradition
Every year on Christmas Eve, the routine in Paris remained sacred.
No matter how busy the markets were, no matter how cold the winter wind blew down the boulevards, Étienne, Henri, and Leia closed their offices and their studios by mid-afternoon.
They returned to the apartment overlooking the Luxembourg Gardens, where a massive pine tree was decorated with handmade ornaments, porcelain angels, and glowing golden lights.
On this particular Christmas Eve, the snow was falling softly outside, coating the iron balconies in thick, white velvet.
Henri was busy in the kitchen, roasting a traditional goose with herbs and garlic, humming an old French carol under his breath.
In the living room, Leia—now eighteen and accepted into the prestigious École des Beaux-Arts with a full scholarship—sat sketching by the fire. Étienne sat across from her, reading a leather-bound volume of poetry.
"You know," Leia said, pausing her charcoal pencil and looking up at the billionaire, "you never did tell me what was actually inside that wallet the night I found it."
Étienne looked up over his reading glasses, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Ah. Well, there was your father's old business card, which I had kept in my pocket for fifteen years as a reminder of what I lost. There was a photo of an old winter in Marseille. And..."
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small, worn leather wallet—the exact same one from that fateful night. He opened it and handed her a small, folded piece of yellowed paper.
Leia unfolded it carefully. It was an old sketch of two young men laughing outside a university cafe, signed with two initials: H.M. & É.D.
May you like
"You kept it," Leia whispered.
"I kept it," Étienne said softly. "Because without it, I would never have found my way back to who I was supposed to be."
