ANNY
The study door closes behind my father.
Oliver and I remain on opposite sides of the desk, with Lucía Herrera’s death spread between us.
“If we do this,” I say, “we do it my way.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“The dossier stays with me.”
He nods.
“I have access to every document, every investigator, and every account connected to it.”
“Agreed.”
“You do not decide what information I can handle.”
“Agreed.”
I place both hands on the desk. “And you do not meet Roberta privately again.”
Oliver’s mouth tightens. “Agreed.”
“No more lies.”
This time, he hesitates.
“That one should have been the easiest,” I say.
“There are family matters that do not belong only to me.”
“Then tell me when something is not yours to reveal. Don’t replace the truth with whatever version keeps me quiet
