Part 7
She had respected him less because he kept arguing while she carried the burning towel to the sink.
“Étienne,” she said, using his first name for the first time, “I don’t need you to admit anything. I need you to let me protect Louis.”
His eyes flickered.
“From what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“And if there is nothing?”
“Then we’ll have lost twenty minutes and bruised your pride.”
His mouth tightened.
“And if there is something?” he asked.
“Then twenty minutes may matter.”
The statement was deliberately general. Claire would not invent urgency she had not established. Louis was stable. But delay could still affect documentation, decontamination decisions, or the reliability of accounts.
Étienne looked toward the door.
“I will bring my mother,” he said.
Claire did not believe him.
“You stay,” she said. “Have the manager bring her.”
“You don’t give instructions here.”
“Then ask politely.”
He stared at her.
A faint vibration sounded from inside his jacket.
He removed a phone, checked the screen, and rejected the call. For the first time Claire saw the name before it disappeared: Maman.
Hélène was calling him from somewhere inside the château.
“Answer,” Claire said.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“She is resting.”
“She just called you.”
“She calls when she is anxious.”
“Answer.”
“No.”
The calmness of that refusal frightened Claire more than open rage would have. It suggested long practice.
She walked toward the door.
Étienne moved to intercept her.
Claire stopped before their paths crossed. “I’m going to bring Madame de Varenne into the room.”
“You will not involve her.”
“She requested the visit and witnessed the marks.”
“She is not Louis’s legal guardian.”
“She is a witness.”
“To a rash.”
“To whatever she saw.”
He looked past Claire toward the bassinet, measuring distance.
She shifted slightly so she remained between him and her medical bag, not the infant. She did not want her posture to look protective yet. Open confrontation could make him unpredictable.
“I will leave the room,” she said, “only to contact Dr. Renard or bring in the person who called me.”
“If you step into that corridor, the visit ends.”
“You said it ended ten minutes ago.”
“This time you will be escorted out.”
“And Louis?”
“Will remain with his father.”
“That is what concerns me.”
There. The accusation was finally explicit.
Étienne’s face emptied.
For several seconds, only the clock in the corridor moved.
Then he said, “Be very careful.”
Claire’s pulse thudded once against her throat.
“Is that a threat?”
“It is advice from someone whose family has been targeted before.”
“By nurses?”
“By people who discover that suspicion is profitable.”
“I’m salaried.”
“You think money is the only profit.”
“What am I gaining?”
“Moral excitement. Importance. The pleasure of becoming the brave person in a story.”
The words struck because some part of Claire feared them. Medical work could create its own vanity. The worker who noticed what others missed. The protector who alone recognized danger. She had seen colleagues become attached to suspicions because abandoning them felt like abandoning courage.
She looked at Louis again and asked herself the question Marianne had taught her: What do I actually know?
A caregiver reported exposure, according to Étienne.
The caregiver was dismissed after making the report.
Hélène saw marks and requested Claire specifically.
The nursery had been locked from the corridor.
Étienne had provided inconsistent accounts.
A silver container sat near fresh linen.
The infant had not yet been examined.
Those facts justified concern. They did not justify a conclusion.
Claire faced him. “You may be right about my ego.”
His brows lifted slightly.
“I may be overreading the room,” she continued. “I may leave embarrassed. Dr. Béraud may be correct. But none of that changes the next step.”
“And what is that?”
“I examine Louis.”
Étienne rubbed his tongue once against the inside of his cheek. His gaze moved from her to the bassinet, then to the cabinet, then to the door.
Finally, he stepped aside.
“Two minutes,” he said.
“I won’t rush.”
“Then you will be removed.”
Claire returned to the bassinet.
Her hands were colder now. She rubbed them together before touching the blanket.
Louis made a small stretching motion, both knees shifting beneath the fabric. His head turned toward the amber light. The movement reassured her. Natural. Quiet.
She loosened the blanket at his chest.
Étienne stood behind her left shoulder, close enough that she could hear his controlled breathing.
Claire paused.
“Stand by the chair.”
“No.”
“I need space.”
“You have it.”
“You’re affecting my work.”
“You accused me of endangering my son.”
“I said I was concerned.”
“You chose the wording carefully enough to deny it later.”
Claire looked over her shoulder. “Chair.”
The command surprised both of them.
His jaw tightened.
Then he moved to the chair, one hand resting on its back. He did not sit. The gold watch on his wrist remained visible. So did both rings.
Claire turned back to Louis.
She gently freed one side of the ivory blanket, keeping the lower half wrapped. The white sleeper had small buttons along the shoulder. She opened the top one.
Clear skin at the upper chest.
She opened the second.
Still clear.
The infant’s eyes fluttered. A thin line of dark lashes lifted, revealing unfocused gray-blue eyes. They moved slowly without settling on anything. Louis inhaled, made a tiny questioning sound, and closed them again.
“Hello,” Claire whispered. “Stay sleepy.”
Behind her, Étienne’s fingers tightened on the chair.
Claire noticed in the reflection of the bassinet wall.
“Did he nap normally today?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
“All day?”
“In the nursery.”
“Was the door locked then?”
“No.”
“Who has keys?”
“Staff.”
“Which staff?”
“This is not relevant.”
“It became relevant when I had to be unlocked into the room.”
May you like
Étienne did not answer.
Claire undid one more shoulder fastening. To see the upper back, she would need to turn Louis slightly and lower the sleeper fabric. She prepared the blanket so it could be secured again immediately.
