Page 24 of The Reckoning (Oakmount Elite #7)

“Lilian,” Patricia says, her tone sharpening with warning. “Don’t be difficult. You know these checkups are necessary.”

“Are they?” Lilian counters. “Because I’ve been feeling better than ever recently. Stronger. More energetic. Almost as if”—she pauses, deliberate and pointed—”my condition isn’t as serious as I’ve been led to believe.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension crackling like static electricity before a storm. Dr. Winters glances at Patricia, and some silent communication passes between them.

“Your condition is quite real, I assure you,” he says, his tone taking on a patronizing edge that makes my fingers curl with the urge to break something, preferably his face. “Though I’m pleased to hear you’re feeling well. That suggests your current medication regimen is effective.”

“Or that I never needed it in the first place,” Lilian suggests, her voice deceptively light.

Dr. Winters smiles, a thin stretch of lips that never reaches his eyes. “Well, regardless of your theories, we have an exciting development to discuss. A new procedure that could significantly improve your quality of life.”

“What kind of procedure?” I ask, stepping forward slightly.

Dr. Winters barely spares me a glance. “A specialized treatment developed by Hayes Enterprises. Quite revolutionary, really. It’s shown remarkable results in cases similar to Lilian’s.”

“Cases like mine?” Lilian repeats. “What cases? What’s wrong with me, exactly? Because in all these years of treatments and medications and tests, no one has ever given me a clear diagnosis.”

I’ve witnessed the exhaustion, the erratic heartbeat, the shortness of breath, and the fainting spells. However, I don’t mention that since she stopped taking the carefully prescribed medication regimen, I haven’t seen much of anything, except for a slight shortness of breath.

The question lands like a grenade in the room, exposing the fundamental lie at the center of Lilian’s existence. Patricia’s expression hardens, all pretense of maternal concern evaporating.

“That’s enough, Lilian,” she says, voice cold as ice. “You’re clearly not yourself today. Perhaps it’s time for a sedative before we proceed.”

Dr. Winters moves toward his medical bag, and every instinct in my body screams danger. I step in front of Lilian, blocking his path.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say, keeping my voice level despite the rage building inside me. “Lilian is perfectly calm. She’s just asking reasonable questions about her own health.”

“Aries,” Patricia says, a warning in her tone. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Anything concerning Lilian concerns me,” I reply, not backing down. “And right now, I’m concerned about why you’re so eager to sedate her rather than answer her questions.”

Dr. Winters looks between us, clearly uncertain how to proceed in the face of my unexpected interference. “Perhaps we should all take a moment to calm down,” he suggests, his placating tone grating on my already frayed nerves.

“I am calm,” Lilian says, stepping out from behind me. “And I’m not undergoing any procedure until I understand exactly what it is and why I need it.”

“The procedure is scheduled for tomorrow morning,” Dr. Winters says, as if her objection is merely a minor inconvenience rather than a flat refusal. “The donors are already asking?—”

He cuts himself off, but not before the slip registers. Donors. Not doctors, not specialists. Donors.

“What donors?” Lilian demands, her voice sharp with sudden intensity. “What exactly are you planning to do to me?”

Dr. Winters’ mouth opens and closes, for once at a loss for words. Patricia steps forward, smoothly taking control of the situation.

“Dr. Winters misspoke,” she says, her smile as brittle as thin ice. “He meant donors to the research program. Philanthropists who have made this revolutionary treatment possible.”

“Bullshit,” I say before I can stop myself, the word so at odds with Aries’s usual carefully measured speech that both Patricia and the doctor stare at me in shock. Yes, there may be money, but they certainly aren’t giving it to a good cause.

“Excuse me?” Patricia says, her voice dangerously soft.

I backtrack quickly, reminding myself that I’m still playing a role here. “I apologize for my language, but I’m concerned. This all seems very sudden, and Lilian is clearly uncomfortable with the idea.”

“Uncomfortable or not,” Dr. Winters says, having recovered his professional demeanor, “the procedure is necessary for her continued health and well-being. And given her recent lack of attention regarding her medical care, we must insist.”

“You can’t force me,” Lilian says, her voice steady despite the fear I can sense radiating from her. “I’m an adult. I have the right to refuse treatment.”

For the first time since we entered the room, Patricia smiles—a cold, triumphant expression that sends a chill down my spine.

“Actually, my dear,” she says, moving toward the desk and opening a drawer, “that’s not entirely accurate.”

She removes a file folder, opening it with deliberate slowness. “I had hoped we wouldn’t need to resort to this, but given your current…rebelliousness, I see no alternative.”

She extracts a document and holds it out to Lilian, who takes it with visibly trembling hands.

I move closer, reading over her shoulder as the blood drains from her face. It’s a medical power of attorney, giving Patricia complete control over her daughter’s healthcare decisions.

“This can’t be real,” Lilian whispers, her voice hollow with shock. “I never signed this.”

“But you did,” Patricia says, pointing at the signature at the bottom of the page. “Along with all your other paperwork when you turned eighteen. You really should read things more carefully before signing them, darling.”