Vera

The room felt smaller the longer the video played.

The screen glowed too brightly in the darkened study, each frame cutting deeper than the last. Vera sat motionless, her spine straight, hands folded in her lap as if stillness could hold her together.

On-screen, she was younger. Softer. Asleep.

Vulnerable.

A doctor’s voice murmured something clinical. Another nodded. A tray of instruments slid into view.

And then—

The vial.

Labeled with her name.

Her DNA.

Her ...