Maya: "It's not the brain. It's the heart. But not the muscle. The memory. He has a splinter from an old surgery. A fragment of metal. It's moving."

He opens a drawer. Inside: photos of three other young girls with similar "sensitivities." All gone. All "disappeared."

He hands her an MRI of a patient no one can diagnose.

The nurse dismisses it. The classmate is rushed to the ER that night. INT. COUNTY GENERAL HOSPITAL - DAY Dr. LIAM CADE (28), a rising star in diagnostic medicine, watches Maya in the waiting room. She sits with her mother (who has undiagnosed MS—Maya already knows). Liam approaches, not with kindness, but with clinical curiosity.

Maya whispers: "Not a stomachache. Appendicitis. Twelve hours."

Liam smiles. Not warmly. Hungrily. INT. LIAM'S PRIVATE OFFICE - NIGHT Liam plays a recording of Maya's diagnosis. He rewinds. Watches her face. He's not reporting this to any hospital board. He's building a file.

Liam: "Look at it. Tell me what you see."

Maya hesitates. Then—her eyes change. She traces her finger over the scan.