“They are your immediate family members,” he replied gently, uncertainty flickering across his features. “Transparency remains ethically important under most circumstances.”
Madison’s gaze hardened with chilling clarity.
“I know precisely what they are,” she answered quietly, her tone steady and absolute. “I am not requesting deception, I am requesting time.”
Silence stretched before Dr. Lawson nodded slowly.
“I can give you forty eight hours discreetly,” he said at last. “No longer without formal documentation.”
Madison blinked gratefully.
She was not asking mercy.
She was securing advantage.
On the twenty eighth day, Madison Clarke left Riverside General Hospital quietly, wearing anonymity like armor while stepping toward a house already filled with mourners preparing for her funeral. Chairs crowded the yard, black clothing dominated the gathering, laughter drifted freely through the air with unsettling casualness.
Derek moved confidently among guests, issuing instructions with pride sharpened by anticipation rather than grief.
“Arrange those chairs closer together for better spacing,” he announced briskly. “Attendance appears higher than initially expected.”
Tracy glided effortlessly through the rooms, her laughter bright and careless.
“She would have appreciated something simple and inexpensive,” Tracy remarked lightly. “After all, simplicity defined her entire existence.”
