Cammy didn't flinch. Didn't blink. She sat still as stone, but a single tear broke loose and slid down her cheek, trailing silently across her pale skin. Her voice came out in a near-whisper, brittle but crystal clear—piercing through the heavy silence like glass shattering on concrete.
"I took the samples myself, Greg," she said, her voice trembling with exhaustion. "Except for Richard's swab… but the hair—his hair—he plucked it in front of me.
I saw him drop it into the container with my own eyes." Her voice broke. "The result said 99.9998%. What else is there to question?"
Her lips quivered as she wiped away the fresh flood of tears, trying—failing—to steady herself. "I'm tired," she said softly, turning to Ric, her eyes hollow and pleading. "Please… can we call it a night? I just want to go home. I want to be with Dylan… and my Dad. Just for tonight."
