After a long moment of silence, Livia finally spoke.
"So… the puzzle fits," she said slowly, her voice measured, almost detached. "Most of it, at least."
Ryan, standing across from her, lifted his head. He had been leaning against the table, arms braced behind him as if holding himself upright required effort. The faint hum of the room felt louder than it should have. He frowned slightly, the lines between his brows tightening.
"Most?"
She tilted her head, studying him—not suspicious, not defensive. Just observant. The kind of look that stripped excuses down to their bones. Then she leaned back against the table, folding her arms loosely, a habit she slipped into when she was thinking too hard, when her mind was already ten steps ahead of the conversation.
"Yeah," she said. "There's still one piece missing."
His brows knit together. "What piece?"
