The door opened with a soft pneumatic hiss, cutting through the silence.
The doctor stepped in.
Composed.
Five-foot-four, wire-rimmed glasses, his white coat pressed so perfectly it looked untouched by the real world.
He held a slim folder in one hand, the kind that carried answers people didn’t always want to hear.
His eyes moved briefly between Vincenzo and me before settling on me.
“Signora Orsini...” he began.
But I was already moving.
I pushed myself up to my feet.
The chair behind me barely made a sound as I stood, my body straightening despite the tension coiled inside me. My heart pounded—but it wasn’t fear.
It was certainty.
Confidence surged through me, reckless and unyielding.
“Please,” I said, gesturing toward Vincenzo. “Give it to him.”
The doctor blinked slightly.
“Let him see for himself.”
A pause.
Then the doctor nodded and crossed the room, extending the folder toward Vincenzo with practiced calm.
I held my breath.
Watched. Waited.
This was it.
The moment. The proof.
The second everything would change.
Vincenzo took the folder without a word.
Opened it.
His eyes dropped to the page.
I watched his face like I was watching a verdict being delivered.
I waited for the shift—the widening of his eyes, the slight parting of his lips, the moment his certainty would crack under the weight of truth.
The moment he would realize—
I hadn’t lied.
But it didn’t happen.
