Laurel’s POV

Mom spooned soup into my mouth while we sat in suffocating silence.

“Laurel,” she finally asked, setting the spoon down, “that woman who helped you fake your illness is really gone?”

“Obviously,” I snapped. “Why else would I have Dr. Evans scrambling for another terminal patient overnight?”

I tapped my fingers against the sheets, anxiety building. This situation was turning into a disaster. The new patient’s data might not convince Blake for long.

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