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“No.” Her expression tightens. “There’s a clear enough pattern that I’m comfortable saying the treatment harmed her. I’m not comfortable saying which individual drug caused which complication, or that any one of them directly caused her death.”

I feel fucking sick.

Kira’s free hand moves to her lap. Her index finger finds the skin beside her thumbnail and starts picking. A small mechanical motion. Worrying at the cuticle until a thin line of red appears.

I reach over and cover her hand with mine, stopping the movement. She doesn’t fight me. Doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve done it. Dr. Morgan falls silent, giving Kira room, but my wife won’t stop looking out the damn window.

When she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet I almost miss it. “Did he know?” she asks, still not looking at us. “Did Dad know they were experiments?”

Dr. Morgan doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. The authorization documents were explicit about their experimental nature. The risks were outlined in great detail, and he signed each one.”

Beneath my hands, Kira goes completely still. I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. Once. Twice. Still no reaction at all. Not even the tense stillness of someone holding something back.

No, this is the hollow stillness of something breaking that was already cracked.

I thank Dr. Morgan. The words come out rougher than they should, but she doesn’t seem to expect politeness. She gathers her papers, slides them back into her briefcase, and stands.

“Do you have any questions, Kira?” she asks.

My wife finally looks away from the window. “No. But thank you for coming.” Her voice is so monotone I want to shake her just to make sure she’s feeling something.

Dr. Morgan nods. “Okay. Well, I’ve emailed all of this to Domenico so you have the records if you need them. As for the hospital—”

“Please stop talking,” Kira interjects in a hollow tone.

Rather than looking offended, Dr. Morgan nods and follows me to the elevator. At the elevator, she turns. Her composure slips, just for a second. Something tired and genuine moves across her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. Just loud enough for me to hear her. “And Domenico?”

“Mm?”

“Keep an eye on her. She’s in shock, and she’s had an extraordinary amount happen in a very short period of time. If she stays this withdrawn, she may need more support than you can give her alone.”

I don’t particularly appreciate her assessment of my wife, and I’m even less interested in discussing Kira’s wellbeing with anyone else.

“Thank you again for coming.”

Dr. Morgan gets on the elevator and shoots me a stiff smile just before the doors close. Even though I should return to Kira, I stay in the hallway for a couple of minutes. I need to get my head straight before I go back in there.

My phone vibrates again. Fucking hell. I pull it from my pocket and answer with a gruff, “Yeah?”

“I’ve found it,” Paolo says. “I have everything you need, and Gio—”

“Text me where to meet you,” I interject.

Then I hang up and return to my wife, who’s now lying down on the couch with her back to the room.

“Baby?”

No reply.

I walk over to her and gently stroke her shoulder. Judging by her breathing, she’s fast asleep. I know I should leave her be, but I can’t. I promised her I wouldn’t leave without telling her, and I can’t not go.

“Kira.” I speak her name firmer, shaking her slightly.

“What?” she snips. “I just want to sleep.”

“I have to go out for a bit, but Vinny’s here.”