Page 28
Then she turned with an annoyed glare that burned through him. Her voice was cold, clipped. “Mr. Moretti, if you’ve lost your mind, get it checked by a shrink. Don’t go crazy in front of me. My name is Astra, not Krystal.”
His jaw tightened. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, eyes not leaving her face. “You just… really look like my wife.”
He stepped closer, like a moth pulled helplessly to the flame. His hand lifted slowly, almost unconsciously, fingers brushing the edge of her mask.
She smacked his hand down and stepped back with a sharp scoff. “Congratulations on having such a good-figured wife, Mr. Moretti. Not everyone gets someone as sexy as me.”
The playful venom in her voice snapped him out of whatever daze he’d slipped into.
Lorenzo’s softened gaze hardened like steel.
Krystal was always gentle, kind, quiet—never loud or arrogant like this woman. No way could this woman be Krystal. Not even close.
He slid his hands into his pockets, face hardening again. “That was a mistake,” he said, voice flat. “You’ll never be my wife.”
Behind the mask, Krystal fought back a snicker. She tilted her head slightly, mocking him without a word.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said, voice curt, professional now, “my time is precious. Stop wasting it and take me to the patient.”
Lorenzo’s glare could have burned the whole world down, but she didn’t even flinch, and that only made his blood boil hotter.
Xander, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. “This way, Doctor Astra,” he stammered, guiding her toward the Moretti house.
She turned and followed him, and Lorenzo trailed close behind, dark thoughts running through his mind. How could someone be this similar to Krystal—the figure, the scent, everything—except for the personality?
Still, he pushed the thoughts aside and went inside.
“We’ll wait downstairs,” Xander said, opening the guest room door. “You can check on Ms. Esther and let me know if you need anything.”
She nodded without a word as Xander opened the door.
There she was—Esther, fragile and pale, her sickly eyes darkened and weak. As Astra entered, Esther coughed and sat up straighter, trying to seem stronger than she felt.
Astra’s eyes scanned Esther from head to toe. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “This is his type? Seriously?” she muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing. “He has a really poor taste. What did he even see in this drama queen to fall for her?”
But those thoughts stayed in her mind. Since Lorenzo wanted Esther, she’d give him what he deserved.
She set down her bag on the table, pulling out instruments and reports. Checking Esther’s pulse, then the x-rays. Finally, she examined Esther’s mouth, and her face grew grim.
Esther whispered in a fragile voice, “Doctor, do you think there’s any cure? Can I get better?”
“No,” Astra said flatly.
‘I knew it.’ A smug smile crept onto Esther’s face as relief washed over her. ‘What kind of special doctor is she? Just like the rest—useless. Jim was worrying for nothing, just like I thought.’
She coughed weakly and murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. No other doctor’s been able to help me either. It’s not a big deal.”
“That’s not the case,” Astra muttered as she packed up her things, placing each tool carefully back into her medical kit. Then she turned to Esther, her gaze cold. “Ms. Esther, I can’t treat you because you’re not sick.”
Esther blinked in confusion.
“You’ve been taking a drug that causes artificial clotting. If you stop now, you might still be able to save your life before it’s too late.”
With that, Astra turned on her heel and started toward the door.
Esther, who just seconds ago had been smug and self-assured, froze. Panic clawed at her chest as the realization hit—Astra had figured her out.
“Wait! Doctor Astra, wait!” Esther’s voice cracked as she shoved her blanket aside and scrambled off the bed, rushing after Astra. She caught her arm, desperation bleeding from her voice. “Please, don’t tell anyone. I’ll pay you whatever you want. I don’t want Lorenzo or anyone else to know. Just… keep this between us. I’ll make it worth your while.”
His jaw tightened. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, eyes not leaving her face. “You just… really look like my wife.”
He stepped closer, like a moth pulled helplessly to the flame. His hand lifted slowly, almost unconsciously, fingers brushing the edge of her mask.
She smacked his hand down and stepped back with a sharp scoff. “Congratulations on having such a good-figured wife, Mr. Moretti. Not everyone gets someone as sexy as me.”
The playful venom in her voice snapped him out of whatever daze he’d slipped into.
Lorenzo’s softened gaze hardened like steel.
Krystal was always gentle, kind, quiet—never loud or arrogant like this woman. No way could this woman be Krystal. Not even close.
He slid his hands into his pockets, face hardening again. “That was a mistake,” he said, voice flat. “You’ll never be my wife.”
Behind the mask, Krystal fought back a snicker. She tilted her head slightly, mocking him without a word.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said, voice curt, professional now, “my time is precious. Stop wasting it and take me to the patient.”
Lorenzo’s glare could have burned the whole world down, but she didn’t even flinch, and that only made his blood boil hotter.
Xander, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. “This way, Doctor Astra,” he stammered, guiding her toward the Moretti house.
She turned and followed him, and Lorenzo trailed close behind, dark thoughts running through his mind. How could someone be this similar to Krystal—the figure, the scent, everything—except for the personality?
Still, he pushed the thoughts aside and went inside.
“We’ll wait downstairs,” Xander said, opening the guest room door. “You can check on Ms. Esther and let me know if you need anything.”
She nodded without a word as Xander opened the door.
There she was—Esther, fragile and pale, her sickly eyes darkened and weak. As Astra entered, Esther coughed and sat up straighter, trying to seem stronger than she felt.
Astra’s eyes scanned Esther from head to toe. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “This is his type? Seriously?” she muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing. “He has a really poor taste. What did he even see in this drama queen to fall for her?”
But those thoughts stayed in her mind. Since Lorenzo wanted Esther, she’d give him what he deserved.
She set down her bag on the table, pulling out instruments and reports. Checking Esther’s pulse, then the x-rays. Finally, she examined Esther’s mouth, and her face grew grim.
Esther whispered in a fragile voice, “Doctor, do you think there’s any cure? Can I get better?”
“No,” Astra said flatly.
‘I knew it.’ A smug smile crept onto Esther’s face as relief washed over her. ‘What kind of special doctor is she? Just like the rest—useless. Jim was worrying for nothing, just like I thought.’
She coughed weakly and murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. No other doctor’s been able to help me either. It’s not a big deal.”
“That’s not the case,” Astra muttered as she packed up her things, placing each tool carefully back into her medical kit. Then she turned to Esther, her gaze cold. “Ms. Esther, I can’t treat you because you’re not sick.”
Esther blinked in confusion.
“You’ve been taking a drug that causes artificial clotting. If you stop now, you might still be able to save your life before it’s too late.”
With that, Astra turned on her heel and started toward the door.
Esther, who just seconds ago had been smug and self-assured, froze. Panic clawed at her chest as the realization hit—Astra had figured her out.
“Wait! Doctor Astra, wait!” Esther’s voice cracked as she shoved her blanket aside and scrambled off the bed, rushing after Astra. She caught her arm, desperation bleeding from her voice. “Please, don’t tell anyone. I’ll pay you whatever you want. I don’t want Lorenzo or anyone else to know. Just… keep this between us. I’ll make it worth your while.”
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