The words hit me 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 reattachment procedure.
"What do you mean '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 immediately well in her eyes, streaming down her flushed cheeks as she gasps for breath.
"How fucking 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 somewhere primal within me.
"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 me 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 mean '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 stammers. "The finger reattachment is proceeding normally. I sincerely apologize for this inexcusable mix-up."
Relief floods through me.
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 medical license!"
"Sarah, calm down," I interject, placing a hand on her arm. "There's someone else that just lost someone close to them. Let's just go back into the waiting room."
Sarah whirls on me, her eyes narrowed behind tear-streaked glasses. "Are you fucking kidding me right now, Morgan? You want me to care about some stranger when this... this incompetent monster just told us my brother was dead?"
I keep my voice deliberately soft, reasonable. "Think about it. Somewhere 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 me with something 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 come 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 same 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 something like sympathy flickers through me, 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 me, 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 smell of vomit permeates 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 me, vomit still clinging to the front of her sweatpants. "Excuse me?"
"I'm only thinking of Adam," I continue, keeping my voice low enough that only she and Sarah can hear me. "Imagine waking up from surgery to find you looking, and smelling like this. The poor man's been through enough trauma today, don't you think?"
Sarah shoots me a confused look, clearly trying to reconcile the supportive friend she thought she knew with this new, venomous version of me.
"I say you should head home," I tell Lana, my voice taking on a maternal tone that makes her flinch. "We can make arrangements for you to see Adam another time. He needs rest and a stress-free environment 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 me, 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 smell pretty bad." She wrinkles her nose slightly. "Maybe go home, shower, change, and come back later?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" 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 moment, I see something primal cross her face.
"You think you've won, don't you?" she hisses, stepping closer to me. "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 menacing whisper. "Adam belongs with me. 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 something crazed in her. She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, "He'll come back to me, 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 me for a long moment, her eyes bloodshot and weary. The emotional roller coaster has clearly taken its toll.
"Just shut the fuck up, Morgan," she says, her voice flat with exhaustion. "I don't know what your game 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"