Milan — Moretti's building
Footsteps echoed behind her like a death sentence being written.
Vera climbed the old stairs, her body screaming for rest, but fear and rage drove her upward.
On the second floor, she heard it — the service door smashing open.
The men were inside.
There was no turning back.
She clutched the dossier tighter against her chest.
"Move!" one of the pursuers shouted.
Vera stumbled onto the third floor, her knees feeling like shattered glass.
The peeling walls seemed to close in around her.
Ahead — an old brass plaque:
"Prosecutor Giulio Moretti — Office 31"
So close.
But then — a yell:
"THERE!"
Two men stormed into the hallway.
Vera spun instinctively, searching for an escape — but there was none.
There was only one choice: fight.
Without thinking, she grabbed a fallen chair from the corner and hurled it at the first man.
Impact.
The brute staggered back.
The second man charged, but Vera was already sprinting, using the narrow corridor to her advantage — too tight for a clean chase.
Office 31 was just meters away.
The first man recovered and lunged after her.
Vera nearly slipped, her hand skimming along the crumbling railing, but she forced her legs forward.
The office door loomed like an altar of salvation.
With one final desperate push, Vera crashed through it.
Inside, Giulio Moretti stood abruptly from behind his desk, startled.
Vera slammed the door shut behind her — throwing the heavy lock into place.
For a moment, only the pounding fists against the wood filled the room.
She collapsed to her knees, clutching the dossier against her chest, tears mixing with sweat.
"My name is Vera Colli…" she gasped, voice trembling. "And I have the truth that can change everything."
Moretti approached, his eyes hard — but burning with something else: attention.
Outside the door, hell waited.
But inside this forgotten office, hope still clung to life.
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