Paris – November 13, 1937 – 7:42 AM
The radio crackled in every room. The president's voice had gone out during the night: partial resignation, "commitment to stability," promises of investigation. But no one believed it.
The country wanted a name.
And all fingers were starting to point in the same direction: Claire Vaillant.
She watched the movement outside from Madeleine's apartment window.
— "They're getting too close," Solène said.
— "What did you expect? You dropped a bomb."
Claire didn't answer. She stared into the mirror in front of her, as if searching for someone no longer there.
Émile appeared in the doorway with a newspaper in hand.
— "Look at this."
On the front page: a blurry photo, taken from afar, of Claire in the protests.
"WHO IS THE WOMAN WHO EXPOSED THE SYSTEM?"
Below, speculation. Theories. Lies.
— "They'll turn you into a myth... or a criminal," Madeleine said.
— "Maybe I need to be both," Claire finally replied.
—
Republican Guard Headquarters – 8:33 AM
An officer slammed the table.
— "Arrest Claire Vaillant. Whatever it takes. Before she says more."
—
Improvised Hideout – 9:50 AM
Claire sat before an old typewriter. Fresh paper, dry ink, steady hands.
— "Writing a manifesto?" Émile asked.
— "No. A letter. Not to the people. To those who still remember what's right."
— "And after that?"
She gave a tired smile.
— "Then I stop hiding. If they want a face for the truth... they'll have one."
—
Place de la Concorde – 12:01 PM
When Claire stepped into the center of the square, surrounded by people, microphones, and cameras, there was no more Veil, no Rose, no spell.
Just a woman.
With her real name.
And a truth that could no longer be buried.