The Lambert family had dreamed of this trip for years. Paris—the city of love, history, and the Eiffel Tower. For George and Meredith Lambert, it was a chance to show their sons, Ethan and Caleb, the beauty of the world beyond their quiet home in Wisconsin.

Ethan, sixteen, had been obsessed with photography. He carried his camera everywhere, capturing everything from the cobbled streets of Montmartre to the golden glow of the Seine at sunset. Caleb, only twelve, was fascinated by heights. He had spent weeks reading about the Eiffel Tower, reciting facts at dinner, his excitement bubbling over.

On their fourth day in Paris, the family finally stood beneath the iron giant.

“Two million rivets hold this thing together,” Caleb declared, his eyes sparkling. “Can you believe that?”

Ethan rolled his eyes but smiled, snapping a photo of his little brother against the backdrop of the towering structure.

The ascent was exhilarating. The wind whipped around them as they climbed higher, the city stretching endlessly below. On the second level, Ethan leaned over the railing, angling his camera for the perfect shot.

Then—chaos.

A scream. A sudden shove.

And Ethan was gone.

Meredith’s breath caught in her throat. She lunged, but it was too late. The crowd gasped, hands flying to their mouths.

“Ethan!” George roared, his voice breaking.

Security rushed in. People murmured in shock. Someone called for help. But there was nothing to help. Ethan had fallen.

Meredith collapsed, her body wracked with silent sobs. Caleb stood frozen, eyes wide, his fingers gripping the railing where his brother had just been.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. And then—another scream.

Caleb.

George turned just in time to see his youngest son being yanked toward the edge. A man—tall, hooded—gripping his wrist.

“Let go of him!” George bellowed, surging forward.

But the stranger’s grip was unrelenting. A second later, Caleb was airborne.

Meredith's screams shattered the air. George lunged again, too slow, too late—again. The world tilted.

And just like that, they were both gone.

Two sons.

Two lives.

Two stolen moments of horror.

The French authorities investigated. Surveillance footage showed the stranger blending into the crowd. A man with no name, no face, slipping away as if he had never been there at all.

The Eiffel Tower stood tall, unshaken, unmoved.

For the Lamberts, Paris had been a dream.

Now, it was a nightmare they would never wake from.