Dr. Palmer's expression turned serious when he heard my heartbeat. "Your heartbeat is very weak. This isn't right. I'll have my colleagues run some tests on you, especially a blood panel. This could be anemia."
He was about to head to the office when I stopped him. "There's no need, Dr. Palmer. I donated three bags of blood yesterday, so…"
Dr. Palmer froze, staring at me in disbelief. "Who allowed that? Which doctor approved it? You have severe anemia. You shouldn't be donating blood."
"My husband's daughter needed blood, and my blood type happens to match hers," I explained simply.
Something seemed to click for him. Frowning, he said, "He took your phone. You were forced into it, right? No wonder Juliet couldn't reach you."
"Yes."
I looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, Dr. Palmer. But please don't tell Juliet about this. Her family's company has many ties to Griffin Group. I don't want to put her in a difficult spot."
He hesitated, then nodded. "I can keep it from her. But do you want me to help you call the police?"
I thought of Mom, whose life depended on Griffin Group's medical device. Until that device officially hit the market, I couldn't get it on my own. I had to go through Steve.
"No, thanks. I know you mean well, Dr. Palmer, but… I have my reasons. Just help me keep this from Juliet."
I didn't explain further. But in the world of adults, there was a silent understanding of boundaries.
I wasn't even Dr. Palmer's patient anymore. As a doctor, he had warned me of the risks. Since I refused help, he didn't press or pry.
He sighed. "The neurosurgery department is just upstairs. If anything happens, have the nurse get me. I have work to get back to."
He gave me a slight nod and left.
Not long after he was gone, I noticed his badge lying beside my bed.
I reached over and flipped it up. It read "Tristan Palmer, Associate Chief Physician of Neurosurgery".
He must have dropped it while checking my heartbeat, but I had no phone and no other way to contact him now.


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