The text message was a ghost in the machine, a digital serpent that had slipped through their defenses. Isabella stood frozen in the sterile silence of the laboratory, the phone a cold, dead weight in her hand. Giancarlo’s words seemed to bleed from the screen, poisoning the air. He knew. He knew about her presentation. He knew their strategy. The carefully constructed plan, the fragile trust, the hard-won unity — it all felt suddenly, terrifyingly transparent.
She found Alessandro in his study, already dressed, his focus on a final security briefing with Marco. The predawn light carved his profile in sharp relief, all determination and hardened resolve. The sight of him, so solid and certain, was an anchor in her sudden storm of doubt.
She didn’t speak. She simply walked to the desk and
