After finishing her morning rounds, Sloane settled in to review her patients’ medication charts. The steady rhythm of her day, notes, dosage adjustments, digital signatures, helped her focus. But just as she reached for the next file, her phone buzzed across the desk.
An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.
She hesitated before answering. “Hello?”
“Sloane. It’s me.”
The voice was unmistakable, Damon.
Rough and gravelly, like it had been dragged across sandpaper all night.
Every muscle in her body went tense. Instinctively, her first thought was to hang up. But before she could, his next words stopped her cold.
“There are still some of your things at home,” he said slowly. “Your medical books. And those models you worked on.”
Her fingers froze around the phone.
