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Chapter 50

last update publish date: 2026-04-23 22:20:09
Standing at the end of the hallway were Julia and Mavis, a few steps behind was Misha, his face down, gazing at his phone.

Taking a large step back, I slipped inside a nearby examination room, covering my face with my clipboard.

Did they see me? Did they recognize me?

Holding my breath, I waited for them to pass.

“Hey Nurse!” Julia’s hawkish voice rang through the hall, making me wince with remembered abuse as she stopped a few steps away from me, “Where is Dr. Stavos’ office?”

At first I th
VictoryAnne Vice

Oh my. Of all the luck, she ended up with the same obstetrician! More story coming soon.

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    The air between us stilled as time seemed to stop. Allison was in pain. I’d do everything in my power to help her. Except for this. I wasn’t even sure I could still do it, even with my instrument. Other than that one time at the convention, I haven’t even touched an instrument since I gave up music shortly after my 18th birthday. That was 7, almost 8 years ago. Before my father’s death. Before my failed marriage…"I can get a violin,” Connor lifted his hand, ready to direct his staff to do just that. “I’m sure we have something in-house that would work. We…”"Not just any violin," I interrupted. "It needs to be MY violin–specifically, the one I used during my initial experiments. I need to have a soul-tight connection to the instrument, otherwise it won't work. It needs to be my Stradivarius.” Stradivarius violins were rare, irreplaceable, and practically priceless. My instrument was over 300 years old, created during master Stradivarius’ “Golden Period,” and had been played by co

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    I followed Connor out of the sanitizing room to a corridor so narrow that we had to walk in single file. The walls were thick plastic, perfectly sealed, protecting us from anything that could possibly cling to the outside of our suits. Eventually, the corridor ended, and a set of heavy doors slid away to reveal a large, open room. It almost felt like a warehouse, with cement floors that must be easy enough to hose down and disinfect, and tall blank walls. In the center of the room was a bed surrounded by one more set of plastic curtains that provided another layer of safety between the procedure and the outside environment. And at the heart of that space, lying on the bed, was Connor's sister, and my best friend, Allison Davies. Taking a deep breath, I surveyed our environment. To the right of the bed was a cart holding trays each with a variety of surgical instruments laid upon its surface. Some of the tools looked unfamiliar, possibly proprietary, but most of them were pretty sta

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