The words hit
like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. Lost him? No. No, that’s not possible. This was supposed to be routine. A simple reattachnt procedure.
“What do you an ‘lost him’?” Sarah’s voice cracks, her face draining of all color.
Dr. Kessler takes a deep breath, his hands folded carefully on his desk. “Mr. Avery went into cardiac arrest during the procedure. We believe he had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia.”
Lana’s body convulses violently, her hand flying to her mouth too late as vomit surges up her throat. The acidic splash hits her gray sweatpants and t-shirt, chunks of half-digested food clinging to the fabric. Tears imdiately well in her eyes, streaming down her flushed cheeks as she gasps for breath.
“How **ing dare you kill Adam,” I snarl, stepping away from the spray. My voice sounds foreign even to my own ears, a guttural accusation torn from sowhere primal within .
“I need to see him!” Lana shrieks, lunging toward the door. Her vomit-stained clothes reek in the small space as she grabs the doctor’s coat. “Take
to Adam right now!”
Sarah collapses into the nearest chair, her body wracked with violent sobs. “No, no, no,” she keeps repeating, rocking back and forth. Her designer glasses slide down her nose, tears streaming unchecked.
The doctor gently extricates himself from Lana’s grip, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Adam?” he asks, glancing down at the chart in his hands. “Who’s Adam?”
The room goes deadly silent except for Sarah’s muffled sobs.
“What do you an ‘who’s Adam’?” I demand, my voice dangerously low. “Adam Avery. The patient you just told us died on your operating table.”
Dr. Kessler’s eyes widen as he flips through his papers. “Oh god, there’s been a terrible mistake.” He pulls out a different chart. “I was supposed to speak with Josh Avery’s family.” His face pales. “Your... Adam is still in surgery. He’s fine.”
Lana sways on her feet, her chest heaving. “He’s alive?”
“Yes, very much alive,” the doctor stamrs. “The finger reattachnt is proceeding normally. I sincerely apologize for this inexcusable mix-up.”
Relief floods through .
I thought I lost you, my baby.
Sarah slams her hand on the doctor’s desk, making him flinch. “How could you be so irresponsible?” she shouts, her voice cracking with emotion. “You just told us my brother was DEAD! Do you have any idea what kind of psychological trauma that causes? You should lose your dical license!”
“Sarah, calm down,” I interject, placing a hand on her arm. “There’s soone else that just lost soone close to them. Let’s just go back into the waiting room.”
Sarah whirls on , her eyes narrowed behind tear-streaked glasses. “Are you **ing kidding
right now, Morgan? You want
to care about so stranger when this... this incompetent monster just told us my brother was dead?”
I keep my voice deliberately soft, reasonable. “Think about it. Sowhere in this hospital, another family is about hear this news. Their loved one is actually gone.”
Sarah’s fury wavers, her shoulders slumping slightly as the reality of my words sinks in. Even Lana, still trembling with vomit staining her clothes, goes quiet.
Dr. Kessler looks at
with sothing like gratitude before his professional mask slips back into place. “I cannot apologize enough for this error. If you’ll return to the waiting area, I’ll personally co update you as soon as Adam’s surgery is complete.”
I guide Sarah gently toward the door, shooting the doctor one last withering glance. “We expect hourly updates.”
As we make our way back to the waiting room, my heart still pounding from the false alarm, we pass the mousy-looking woman hunched in a corner chair. Her eyes dart nervously around the room, fingers clutching her purse so tightly her knuckles have gone white. The sa woman who’d scurried away during our confrontation earlier.
Dr. Kessler approaches her, clipboard in hand. “Are you here for Josh Avery?” he asks gently.
She nods, rising unsteadily to her feet. “Yes, he’s my husband,” she confirms, her voice barely audible.
I watch her face crumple as the doctor leads her toward the consultation room we just vacated. The room where she’ll learn her husband is gone forever. A twinge of sothing like sympathy flickers through , but I quickly extinguish it.
I feel bad for her, I do, but better her husband than Adam, I tell myself. At least I still have mine. Or I will, once I finish what I’ve started.
“Thank God it’s not Adam,” Lana whispers beside , her vomit-stained clothes still reeking as she collapses into a chair.
I wrinkle my nose, taking in Lana’s disheveled appearance with calculated disgust. The acrid sll of vomit perates the air around her, making my stomach turn.
“Lana, you reek of bile,” I say, my voice dripping with false concern. “Surely, if you want to see Adam again, this is not how you wish to look?”
Her tear-streaked face hardens as she glares up at , vomit still clinging to the front of her sweatpants. “Excuse ?”
“I’m only thinking of Adam,” I continue, keeping my voice low enough that only she and Sarah can hear . “Imagine waking up from surgery to find you looking, and slling like this. The poor man’s been through enough trauma today, don’t you think?”
Sarah shoots
a confused look, clearly trying to reconcile the supportive friend she thought she knew with this new, venomous version of .
“I say you should head ho,” I tell Lana, my voice taking on a maternal tone that makes her flinch. “We can make arrangents for you to see Adam another ti. He needs rest and a stress-free environnt to recover.”
Lana’s eyes narrow, her vomit-stained clothes making her look even more pathetic as she struggles to her feet. “You don’t get to decide that,” she hisses, though her voice lacks conviction.
“Actually,” I reply smoothly, “as his current employer and the person he lives with, I believe I do.” I turn to Sarah, softening my expression. “Don’t you agree that Adam needs calm and stability right now? Not...” I gesture vaguely at Lana’s disheveled state, “emotional chaos.”
Sarah looks between us, clearly torn. The revelation about my connection to her brother has shaken her trust in , but her practical nature can’t deny the logic of my words.
“Lana,” Sarah finally says, her voice gentle but firm, “maybe Morgan’s right. You’re upset, and honestly, you do sll pretty bad.” She wrinkles her nose slightly. “Maybe go ho, shower, change, and co back later?”
“Are you **ing kidding ?” Lana’s voice rises, drawing stares from across the waiting room. “After what she just admitted? She manipulated her way into his life! She’s obviously obsessed with him!”
“Keep your voice down,” Sarah hisses, glancing nervously at the other waiting families. “Look, I’m not saying I trust Morgan right now. I have serious questions about this whole situation. But I do know that Adam doesn’t need to wake up to you covered in puke.”
Lana’s eyes flash with a dangerous glint, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. For a mont, I see sothing primal cross her face.
“You think you’ve won, don’t you?” she hisses, stepping closer to . “You think you can just swoop in and take what’s mine?”
“Lana, please,” Sarah sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Fine,” Lana spits, wiping furiously at her tear-stained face. “I’ll go clean up. But make no mistake, Morgan, this isn’t over.” Her voice drops to a nacing whisper. “Adam belongs with . He always has. He always will.”
She backs away, her eyes never leaving mine, a disturbing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I know what you’re doing. I see right through you.”
“Lana, for God’s sake…” Sarah starts.
“I’m going!” Lana snaps, adjusting her vomit-stained clothes with as much dignity as she can muster. “But I’ll be back. Tell Adam I love him.”
As she turns to leave, I catch a glimpse of sothing crazed in her. She mutters sothing under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “He’ll co back to , even if I have to make him.”
Yeah, right, bitch.
After Lana disappears through the sliding doors, I turn to Sarah with my most reassuring smile.
“Sarah, I’ve got this,” I say smoothly. “I can make sure to give you a call when Adam’s all set. There’s no need for both of us to waste our day in this dreary waiting room.”
Sarah stares at
for a long mont, her eyes bloodshot and weary. The emotional roller coaster has clearly taken its toll.
“Just shut the ** up, Morgan,” she says, her voice flat with exhaustion. “I don’t know what your ga is, but I’m not leaving until I know Adam is alive and breathing.”
I hide my annoyance behind a sympathetic nod. “I understand you’re upset…”
“Enough!” She states with finality.
“Fine”
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