"People, please!" Zoe shouted into the microphone, gripping the edges of the wooden podium. "These are official medical records! There is no AI involved!"
Her voice was entirely swallowed by the deafening roar of fifty overlapping journalists. The "Deepfake" rumor had hit the room like a lit match in a fireworks factory. The media didn't want the boring, clinical truth of Aria's survival; they wanted the scandalous, career-ending lie.
"We need independent verification!" a reporter from Page Six shrieked over the din.
"Who coded the PDF?!" another yelled.
Zoe felt a pulsing vein throb in the center of her forehead.
Then suddenly, the double doors at the very back of the conference room burst open.
Like a synchronized flock of vultures, the flashing cameras and blinding ring lights pivoted away from the podium and aimed directly at the entrance.
Standing in the threshold, executing a highly stylized, slow-motion cinematic entrance, were Bella Vale and Lucas Sinclair.
