<b>Chapter </b><b>224 </b>
Jade’s POV:
I gestured toward the living room as Walter Morrison<b>, </b>Sergeant Ford, and Colonel Edwards entered my house. The two military men scanned the room with practiced vignce, their postures rigid despite the casual setting.
“Need anything to drink?” I asked, more out of social obligation than actual hospitality.
Colonel Edwards smiled politely. “No need to trouble yourself, Miss Morgan.”
I took his words at face value, dropping into an armchair without bothering to fetch any refreshments.
“I just knew it,” Colonel Edwards said, looking around the living room with newfound appreciation. “Anyone who’s close to Mr. Haxton couldn’t be an ordinary person. I never expected Miss Morgan’s family to have such
achievements in medicine.”
He paused, his eyes drifting toward the staircase. “Though I must say, it’s strange I’ve never heard of them before. Could you ask your family toe down and take a look at Sergeant Ford’s condition?”
Walter Morrison cleared his throat, about to speak, but I cut in first.
“Which unit were you with, Sergeant Ford?” I asked, studying the way he held his right shoulder slightly higher than his left–a ssicpensation for chronic pain.
Sergeant Ford’s eyes narrowed, clearly not expecting the question. He remained silent, his jaw tightening.
“Delta Force,” Colonel Edwards answered for him, his tone carrying a hint of pride.
I nodded slightly. “Impressive.”
America’s most elite fighting force–even regr special forces couldn’tpare. No wonder Zach had mentioned he couldn’t have beaten Ford if not for the old injury.
‘Let me see your X–rays,” I said, holding out my hand.
Walter Morrison quickly handed me a folder containing several films and medical reports. I examined them carefully, noting the extensive damage to the nerve pathways and deteriorated muscle tissue around the shoulder joint.
“Can you treat this?” Walter Morrison asked, watching my reaction closely.
<b>I </b>continued studying the images. “The damage is extensive. How long ago was the initial injury?”
Colonel Edwards shifted impatiently. “As I was saying, we’d like to meet with the medical expert in your family. Dr. Morrison speaks very highly of them.”
<b>8:01 </b><b>Fri</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>26 </b>T
:
Walter Morrison exchanged a meaningful nce with me before clearing his throat. “Colonel Edwards, there seems to be a misunderstanding. Miss Morgan is the medical expert I mentioned.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Colonel Edwards blinked twice, hisposure momentarily shaken. Sergeant Ford’s expression shifted from skepticism to confusion.
“Excuse me?” Colonel Edwards finally managed. “She’s barely out of high school.”
“Nevertheless<b>,</b>” Walter Morrison continued firmly, “she possesses medical knowledge that surpasses my own<b>.</b>”
Colonel Edwards’s face hardened with disbelief. “Dr. Morrison, with all due respect-”
“You can verify with Philip Thornton at Princeton,” Walter Morrison interrupted. “Or with Ethan Haxton. They’ll confirm what I’m telling you. Miss Morgan is, quite simply, a prodigy.”
86
I suppressed a smile at Walter’s enthusiastic endorsement. Both military men were still processing this revtion, their faces a study in controlled shock.
Colonel Edwds studied me with new intensity, as if trying to see through my exterior to whatever extraordinary brain beneath. Sergeant Ford’s expression had transformed from skepticism to cautious hope, his eyes now
y hands as if they might hold magical properties.
you <b>doubt </b>my credentials,” I said calmly, “you’re wee to leave. But I can tell you right now that I can restore <b>about </b>eighty to ny percent function to Sergeant Ford’s arm. Enough for him to return to active duty.”
Sergeant Ford’s head snapped up, hope shing across his face before he quickly suppressed it. “Is that possible?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded. “The procedure isn’t standard, and the fee would normally be… substantial.”
“Money isn’t an issue,” Colonel Edwards stated, regaining hisposure.
‘I don’t want your money,” I replied, leaning back in my chair. “I want something more valuable–your friendship, or at least your goodwill. You both hold positions of significant influence. Your favor is worth more than cash.”
I gestured toward Sergeant Ford. “That’s why I asked about your military background. I wanted to know if you were worth helping.”
Colonel Edwards’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “You don’t do charity work?”
“I don’t make bad investments,” I corrected. “Treating an arm in exchange for two valuable connections? That’s good business.”
A slow smile spread across Colonel Edwards’s face.
“Do we have a deal<b>?</b><b>” </b>I asked.
86
Colonel Edwards studied me with newfound respect. “We do indeed, Miss Morgan.”
I stood and motioned for Sergeant Ford to follow me to the kitchen. “Remove your shirt and sit at the table. Dr. Morrison, your assistance, please.”
While Walter Morrison prepared the area, I retrieved a specialized neural regeneration serum from a locked case in my study, along with micro–electrical stimtion equipment. Walter and his assistant watched intently as I worked, clearly trying to memorize each step.
“This form targets damaged nerve fibers and promotes regeneration,” I exined as I prepared the first injection. “Combined with targeted electrical stimtion, it can restore pathways that conventional medicine considers permanently damaged.”
Sergeant Ford gritted his teeth as I inserted the first needle directly into the damaged nerve cluster. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he remained silent throughout the procedure. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table, but not once did he flinch or ask me to stop.
“Your pain tolerance is impressive,” Imented, adjusting the electrical current. “Most patients scream at this point.”
“Delta <b>Force </b>training,” he managed through clenched teeth. “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.”
<b>“</b>Poetic
ed dryly, inserting another needle.
<b>inutes </bter, I removed thest needle and applied a cooling gel to the inmed area. The skin was red and <b>looking</b>, but the underlying tissue had already begun responding to the treatment.
<b>Try </b><b>rotating </b>your shoulder,” I instructed.
Sergeant Ford cautiously moved his arm, his eyes widening as the joint moved with significantly less resistance than before. “It’s… better,” he said, surprise evident in his voice.
“This is <b>just </b>the first treatment,” I exined, writing out instructions on a prescription pad. “You’ll need three more sessions over the next month, and you’ll need to take these specific medications daily.”
I handed him the prescription and a business card with my number. “Call to schedule your next appointment. And start these exercises tomorrow–not today.”
As Sergeant Ford carefully put his shirt back on<b>, </b>Colonel Edwards approached me. “Miss Morgan, may I ask you something personal?<b>” </b>
I raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Your rtionship with Ethan Haxton… it’s been what, six months now? Shouldn’t there be some resolution? If you two are genuinely interested in each other, you have my blessing. But if not…”
His implication hung in the air between us.
<b>8:01 </b><b>Fri</b><b>, </b><b>Sep 26 </b>
“My son, Tristan Edwards<b>, </b><b>is </b>about your age. Perhaps I could introduce you-”
“Not interested,” I cut him off tly. “No time for dating.”
Chapter Comments
? 2
Write Comments
< SHARE
(06),