Bianca's face drained of color so fast it was visible even from the back row. She flipped through her notes with hands that had started trembling, pages shuffling loudly in the quiet room, searching for something, anything, that could undo what was now displayed on a screen in front of hundreds of thousands of people."Your Honor, the purchase date on the receipt does not necessarily reflect the true date of acquisition." Her voice came out thinner than before, the confidence leaking out of it word by word. "It's possible the ticket was obtained earlier through informal means and simply claimed on the recorded date."Professor Acerbi did not even blink."I anticipated that argument." He pressed a button on his laptop, and a new video file began playing on the courtroom screen.Security camera footage. The lottery shop on Via Moretti, the angle clear enough to read the date and time stamp in the corner. Marco Ferretti walked into frame, approached the counter, and purchased a single ti

Not in whispers this time. In full, unrestrained noise. Voices overlapping, gasps turning into open conversation, someone in the back row letting out a loud, disbelieving laugh that echoed off the courtroom walls.The livestream chat became a wall of text moving so fast it was unreadable. The same strangers who had been calling Marco a monster two hours ago were now directing every ounce of their fury at Valentina.Her tearful testimony screenshots were already being placed side by side with the affair evidence, captioned with words far crueler than anything Marco himself had ever said to her.Within the hour, Valentina Benedetti's face would become the most recognizable image on the internet.Not as a victim. Not as a wronged wife. As the punchline of a scandal she had funded, promoted, and broadcast entirely by herself.But she did not know that yet.What she knew, sitting at that table with her hair falling in her face and her tissue crumpled uselessly in her fist, was that every s

Sergio's face went red, but he said nothing to that, waving his hand dismissively instead, unwilling to accept even a shred of the blame now that it had all gone wrong.Online, the damage was accelerating by the minute.A woman claiming to work in Valentina's office posted that the affair had been an open secret among her coworkers for over a year, that everyone had known except, apparently, the husband.Someone dug up old photos from company events where Valentina and Lorenzo stood a little too close, smiled a little too warmly, photos that had meant nothing to anyone a week ago and now meant everything.Family friends who had liked her wedding photos five years earlier began quietly deleting their comments. Distant relatives posted vague statements distancing themselves from the entire situation.Her manager sent a short, cold email asking her not to come into the office until further notice.Valentina locked herself in her childhood bedroom, the same narrow room she had grown up in

Lorenzo looked at her with bloodshot eyes, his jaw tight with something that had gone far past anger into something much quieter and more permanent."Savings?" A short, bitter sound escaped his throat. "Alessandra froze every joint account before I woke up this morning. My career is finished. I can't even get a reference letter. And you're standing in my apartment asking me for money?""You owe us." Valentina's voice hardened. "You were part of this.""I was part of this because you dragged me into it!" Lorenzo shot to his feet, the wine bottle swaying dangerously on the coffee table. "None of this would have touched me if you hadn't decided to turn your divorce into a television show! I had a wife, a career, a life, and you burned all of it to the ground because you couldn't keep your mouth shut in a courtroom!"Valentina stared at him, and for the first time, something genuinely cold moved through her chest. Not hurt. Not disappointment. Something much harder than that.She turned a

The stockpiling had become its own kind of machine.Marco rented a second warehouse on the city's outskirts and began placing orders so large that suppliers called back to confirm he was serious.Canned meat by the truckload. Rice in volumes that required pulling from three separate distribution centers. Medical kits, surgical tools, antibiotics sealed in climate controlled packaging.Water purification systems. Portable generators. Diesel fuel in quantities that made the fuel company send a supervisor to verify the delivery address in person.Every item went straight into the system warehouse, where weight and volume meant nothing and preservation lasted forever.At his current pace, he could barely burn through fifty thousand euros a day. The real spending would begin once the safe house was complete and every remaining euro could be thrown entirely into supplies.His phone buzzed twice during the inspection. Giorgia's message was warm and carefully worded, mentioning a new wine lis