Meanwhile, in the hospital, Vittorio woke to find his phone flooded with messages. He told me later—much later—what happened next. But at the time, I learned it from the forums like everyone else.
He scrolled through the comments. His jaw tightened. His hands, still weak from days of fever, trembled.
He looked up at Mara. "Did you post these?"
Her smile faltered. "What?"
"Who else could take these photos?" His voice was ice, the same voice he used to cross-examine witnesses. "The nurses? The orderlies? No. Only you had access. Only you wanted the world to see."
Mara's eyes went red. "I sat here for three days. Three days, Vittorio. I held your hand when your fever spiked to a hundred and four. I wiped the sweat from your face. And the first thing you do is interrogate me?"
"You wante
