Chapter 27:
The Advocate
The day of the meeting with Sophie Mercier, the library felt like it was holding its breath. Luc was a bundle of nervous energy, arriving not at 2:07 but at noon, dressed in a sharp, dark jacket that made him look every bit the serious author, though his restless pacing betrayed his anxiety.
“What if she changes her mind?” he asked, for what felt like the tenth time.“What if she reads it again and decides it’s… too much?”
Élise placed a steadying hand on his arm.“She won’t. She called it a masterpiece, Luc. They don’t use that word lightly.”
He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on her.“Come with me.”
The request startled her.“To the meeting? Luc, I can’t. This is your—”
“Please,” he interrupted, his voice earnest.“You’re the reason it exists. You’re my first reader, my editor, my… everything. I don’t want to walk into that room without my good luck charm.”
How could she refuse?
An hour later, they stood outside a modern building in the 6th arrondissement, all sleek lines and glass, a stark contrast to their beloved library. Sophie Mercier’s office was minimalist and bright, filled with books and a stunning view of the Paris rooftops.
Sophie herself was a woman in her fifties with a sharp, intelligent gaze and a warm, no-nonsense handshake. Her eyes flickered to Élise with polite curiosity.
“Luc, a pleasure,” she said, gesturing to the chairs.“And this is?”
“This is Élise Martin,” Luc said, his voice firm.“She is… integral.”
Sophie’s smile was perceptive.“Ah. The dedicatee. The silence and the song. It’s an honour.”
For the next hour, Luc and Sophie talked about the book—the themes of memory and architecture, the choice to make the silence a character, the potential market. Élise sat quietly, listening with pride as Luc spoke with a passion and clarity that captivated the agent. He was no longer the wounded man hiding in the stacks; he was an author, defending his vision.
“The ending,” Sophie said, leaning forward.“It’s ambiguous. Hopeful, but not neatly resolved. Some editors will want to change that.”
Luc’s jaw tightened.“The ending stays. The character doesn’t escape his past; he learns to build a new life within its ruins. To change that is to change the soul of the book.”
There was a tense silence. Élise held her breath.
Then, Sophie smiled, a genuine, approving smile.“Good. That’s the right answer. My job is to find an editor who understands that, not to butcher your work to fit a template.” She turned her gaze to Élise.“And you, my dear. You are a librarian, Luc tells me. What did you think of the architectural metaphors?”
The question took Élise by surprise. She felt Luc’s encouraging gaze on her. She straightened her spine.
“I thought they were the foundation of the book,” she said, her voice clear and sure.“Literally and figuratively. He wasn’t just describing places; he was building a psychological landscape. The library, the catacombs… they are mirrors for the protagonist’s mind.”
Sophie listened, her head tilted.“Precisely,” she said, her eyes alight with interest. She looked back at Luc.“You have quite a team here.” She stood, signaling the end of the meeting.“I’ll be in touch very soon. I have two editors in mind who would fight for this book. Leave it with me.”
Outside, on the sun-drenched street, Luc let out a whoop of pure joy and swept Élise into his arms.
“You were brilliant!” he said, kissing her soundly.“Did you see her face when you spoke? She was impressed.”
“She was impressed by you,” Élise corrected, laughing, her heart soaring.
“No,” he said, his expression turning serious.“We’re a team. You and me. Just like we’ve always been.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together.“From now on, we face everything together. The battles, the triumphs… all of it.”
Hand in hand, they walked away from the sleek, modern building, back towards their world of old stone and quiet stories. They had an advocate. They had each other. And for the first time, the future stretching out before them felt not like a question, but a promise, ready to be written.
Chapter 28:
The Waiting
With Sophie Mercier as his champion, the waiting transformed. It was no longer a desperate vigil over a silent inbox; it was an active, strategic campaign. Sophie’s updates were infrequent but electrifying.‘Met with Éditions du Seuil today. The editor was captivated.’Or,‘Flammarion is reading it over the weekend. They’re very keen.’
