Page 80 of The Secretary Volume II

“I mean, especially about the intake process.We’re all hands-on here, so if you helped the patient fill out his forms, or had a conversation with him before the procedure—it’s not a big deal.”

“But if Idid,” I say, “then what?”

Andra’s smile falters for just a second.“Then nothing.As long as it stays internal.You did nothing wrong, Lena.I mean, nottechnically.I just want to be sure we’re on the same page.”

I swallow.“How often does that happen?”

Her brow twitches.“What do you mean?”

“People dying.In the middle of a trial.How common is that?”

Andra exhales through her nose, all professional composure.“Well, that’s why we call it a trial.To collect data.To see what happens when we move from theory to practice.Outliers are…expected.”

“That’s your answer?”

“That’s the work.”

She reaches for my arm, pats it gently.“We’re a team.And sometimes the hard days prove that more than the easy ones.”

I need her out of my space before I say something I can’t walk back.Before I admit how much of this I understood and still went along with.Before I throw up—either from the drugs or from the fact that she’s standing here trying to sell me a body count like it’s part of the onboarding packet.

I need her gone so I can breathe without performing.So I can sit with the part of me that said yes.

Because it wasn’t confusion.It wasn’t coercion.It was me, nodding, smiling, playing along.And now a man is dead.And she’s in my kitchen telling me it’s just data.

“I’d like you to go,” I say.“I’m not feeling well.”

“Of course.”She grabs her empty bag and heads for the door.

At the threshold, she pauses.“Take your meds.The partners are watching your recovery closely.We’ll see you soon.”

She lets herself out.Doesn’t close the door all the way.

I lock it behind her.

I sit on the floor and open the Jell-O.The first bite is too sweet.The second makes my jaw ache.I finish half of it anyway, because quitting halfway through things is how I got here.

Somewhere between the moment that man’s body went still and this wobbly spoonful of chemicals, something cracked open.Not a scream.Not a warning.

Just the sound of something sliding into place.

And I know I have to fix this.

46

Lena

Istarted sending out résumés two days ago.Not many.Slim pickings out there at the moment.Just enough effort to pretend I have options.That way if Andra or Stewy try to coerce me into surgery again, I’ll already have one foot out the back door.

In the meantime, I still need a paycheck.

The Shergar building looks the same as always.Blue glass, spotless sidewalks, security guards that don’t blink.I badge in expecting something—resistance, awkward stares, maybe a polite escort to HR.

Instead, security calls my name like I’m a prize winner on a game show.

“Lena Blackwell?”

I glance his way, bracing.