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Not physically.
Structurally.
I sit up slightly.
Wait.
The door opens.
The same woman from earlier steps in.
But she’s different now.
Less composed.
More focused.
Concern has replaced control.
“Dr. London,” she says, “we need you to explain something.”
She doesn’t sit right away.
That tells me everything.
This matters.
She places a tablet on the table in front of me and turns it so I can see.
The list.
I don’t react immediately.
I read.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Everything inside me goes cold.
“This isn’t mine,” I say.
Immediate.
Certain.
No hesitation.
Her eyes flick up to mine.
“But it looks like it.”
“Yes,” I reply. “That’s the problem.”
I swipe through the entries.
