But today, Armand was in a hurry. His doctor had called at 8 a.m. with a voice that was too calm, which meant bad news. “Armand, I’ve looked at your scan from Angers Radiologie. Please come in tomorrow.”

“That’s it,” Armand whispered, pointing a trembling finger at the screen. “That’s what he saw.”

Léa typed the URL. A clean white interface appeared. A field for a date of birth. A field for a temporary access code. She read the numbers from the paper.