The first thing I noticed when I came back to consciousness was the familiar texture of Nate's Egyptian cotton sheets against my skin. My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the half-drawn bedroom curtains. For a brief, disoriented moment, I thought it had all been a horrible nightmare—the discovery about Wanderer, the devastating shock, the feeling that my entire world had collapsed. Then reality crashed back over me like a wave of ice, bringing every ounce of pain and betrayal with it. I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness made me pause. That was when I realized I wasn't alone. A middle-aged woman in a discreet medical uniform was seated in an armchair near the bed, watching me with calm, professional concern. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her refined British accent unmistakable as she stood and stepped closer. "I'm Nurse Patricia. Mr. Carter called me when you fainted." "I… what happened?" I asked, even though I already knew. The memory
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