Chapter 3 - The Midnight Rescue
Within twenty minutes, the quiet, decaying courtyard of Rue de Lappe was transformed.
Flashing amber lights cut through the falling snow, bouncing off the damp brick walls. Paramedics in professional blue uniforms rushed up the narrow stairs, carrying heavy aluminum cases, oxygen tanks, and a state-of-the-art collapsible stretcher. The neighbors peered timidly through cracked doors, whispering among themselves at the sudden invasion of wealth and urgency into their forgotten corner of Paris.
Leia stood frozen by the small table, clutching her sketch folder to her chest like a shield.
"Sir, his oxygen saturation is dangerously low," the lead paramedic announced, hooking Henri up to portable monitors with practiced efficiency. "We need to move him to Saint-Antoine Hospital immediately. The private suite is already prepared."
"No," Henri muttered, struggling weakly against the straps of the stretcher. "Leia... stay... don't let them..."
"Papa, please," Leia pleaded, tears finally spilling over her lashes as she grabbed his cold, calloused hand. "Let them help you. You can't breathe."
Étienne stood quietly by the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the worn floorboards. He watched the father and daughter, a rare expression of deep remorse settling into the hard lines of his face. He stepped forward, kneeling beside the stretcher so that he was at eye level with the sick man.
"Henri," Étienne said softly. "You can hate me all you want. You can curse my name until your dying breath. But do not punish your daughter by letting yourself die out of spite."
Henri glared at him, his chest heaving as the oxygen mask hissed over his face.
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"Let her live, Henri," Étienne continued, his voice steady and low. "Let me give her what I stole from you. Not as charity, but as a beginning."
The paramedics lifted the stretcher, carrying Henri carefully down the narrow, twisting staircase. Leia ran alongside them, her hand locked tightly in her father’s. Étienne followed closely behind, shouldering his heavy wool coat against the biting Christmas wind, his mind already racing with a dozen ways to undo the past.
