When Patricia finally left the hospital room, Nathan stepped inside, the door closing behind him softly. He found Paule lying on the bed, his eyes shut.
Paule didn't stir. He seemed to be asleep.
"Mr. Paule Clair," Nathan said gently, moving closer to the bedside.
Paule fluttered his eyes open and found a tall figure looming over him. With effort, he pushed himself up slightly. Nathan stepped forward quickly and slipped a pillow behind his back, helping him sit more comfortably.
Paule's mouth parted, as if to ask who he was, but the words stumbled somewhere between thought and voice. All he did was stare at him curiously.
"I'm Nathan. I'm here to talk about your adopted daughter, Anne."
At the sound of her name, a visible shudder passed through Paule. His chest tightened. His lips trembled as he forced out, "What… do… you… want?" The words were barely audible, blurred by weakness.
