Lucia did not rush.
That was the first thing Elena noticed as Lucia entered the broadcast suite. Not a single wasted step. No tremor in her hands. No sign that the ground beneath her had shifted in the most intimate, unforgivable way possible.
Fear would come later. Grief would come later.
Right now, there was only timing.
The suite was sealed, stripped of ornament, designed for clarity rather than comfort. A single camera. Neutral lighting. No visible branding. Lucia had demanded it that way. If she was going to speak, it would not be framed by institutions that had already failed her.
"Elena," Lucia said, removing her coat and placing it neatly over the back of a chair, "final verification."
"All documentation authenticated," Elena replied. "Medical boards. Independent oversight councils. Three international pediatric ethics committees have signed provisional statements."
Lucia nodded. "And the legal exposure."
