Milan — Giulio Moretti's Office
The furious pounding against the door was deafening.
But Giulio Moretti didn't seem to hear.
His eyes were locked on the bundle Vera clutched as if it were her own life.
Without a word, Moretti held out his hand.
Trembling, Vera placed the dossier in it.
The prosecutor opened it quickly.
His gaze scanned the pages — photos, bank statements, testimonies, diagrams of corruption and murder.
With each sheet, Moretti's face hardened even more.
Finally, he closed the dossier firmly.
He looked up at Vera.
"Do you realize what you're giving me?" he asked, voice low and sharp as a blade against wood.
"I do," Vera answered without hesitation. "And I'm ready to pay the price."
Outside, the pounding grew even more violent.
Moretti crossed to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out an old, well-worn pistol.
"I'll protect this with my life," he said. "But we have to move now."
He strode across the room and opened a small side door — a hidden emergency exit tucked behind a false cabinet.
"Come."
Without thinking, Vera followed.
As the attackers smashed at the main door, they slipped down a narrow staircase, unseen.
The cold air of the sleeping city seeped through the cracks.
At the street level, Moretti yanked her into a dark car waiting at the curb.
"We're heading to the Ministry," he said. "If we can officially file this evidence before they catch us... it could be the beginning of their end."
Vera glanced back at the shrinking outline of the office behind them.
She knew: nothing would ever be the same.
The seed had been planted.
And now, nothing could stop it from growing.
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