Chapter 8

"Since you recognize my writing," I said without turning around, my voice carrying a calm that was more terrifying than any shout, "you should remember exactly who created those formulas you claimed as your own." I slowly stood, positioning myself between Violet and the vulnerable patients behind me. "Morgan! You bitch!" Violet's voice cracked with hysteria, spittle flying from her lips as she screamed. "You think becoming a Royal Hospital healer means you've won? Dream on! You think you can destroy my life and just walk away to start over somewhere else?" "If you have business," I said with deadly calm, my fingers discretely reaching for the silver scalpel I kept under the counter for emergencies, "we can discuss it outside. Away from innocent people." "Go outside?" She laughed shrilly, the sound like fingernails on glass, making everyone in the room wince. "If you hadn't faked your death to frame me, how would I have lost everything?" Her voice rose to a shriek: "My position,