Mia’s illness was far more complicated than they let on.
The next day, under the guise of familiarizing myself with the estate, I wandered around. On the second floor of the west wing, a man in a white coat blocked me.
“Miss Vivian,” he said politely but firmly. “No one may enter the second lady’s ward.”
“And you are”
“Her attending physician,” he said, handing me a business card. “Dr. Harrison.”
I glanced at it casually. “Doctor, what exactly is wrong with my sister”
His eyes flickered. “Aplastic anemia combined with acute leukemia.”
“Can it be treated”
“Bone marrow transplant is the only hope,” he paused. “A compatible donor is extremely rare.”
I nodded, didn’t ask more, and turned to leave.
At the west wing corner, I noticed a small, unremarkable security camera.
Back in my r
