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the syllables like nails into wood.
“Listen to me,” I said. “Do not leave. You tell them your father is Dr. Garrison Mills, Chief of Surgery at St. Catherine’s. You tell them I’m on my way.”
There was a small, desperate inhale. “Dad—”
“Ethan,” I cut in, and my voice cracked around his name. “If your appendix ruptures because they’re delaying care, that continue reading …
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