Rocco held the bottle in both hands and didn't say a word.

He didn't need to.

Lucia's face had already said everything.

"Give that to me," she said quietly.

"You're confused again, Rocco.

You always get like this after a bad episode."

"I'm not confused," he said.

"I'm reading the date."

The bottle had been filled three weeks ago.

It was still almost full.

Three weeks of spasms.

Three weeks of being told he was getting worse.

Three weeks of Grant and Lucia exchanging looks every time June tried to stay close.

June stepped forward.

"Mr.

Santoro, I think you should call your doctor directly.

Not through the house line.

Your own phone."

Grant moved to block her.

"You don't work here anymore."

"She stays," Rocco said.

His voice was low.

Final.

The room went still.

Then Edwin, who hadn't spoken once, slowly reached into his jacket pocket and placed a folded piece of paper on the table.

"I've been carrying this for two weeks," he said.

"I didn't know what to do with it."

Lucia's eyes went straight to it.

That was the moment Rocco understood Edwin wasn't protecting her.

He was afraid of her.