The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 341

"There is no 'why.' That's an order."

Cassandra rolled her eyes internally.

Tch! Why should she? She wasn't even his subordinate!

Seeing Garrison's foul mood, she decided not to push her luck. She shoved her phone into her pocket, pushed the door open, and walked in.

She sat down by the bed, picked up the bowl, blew on a spoonful of oatmeal, and brought it to Sloane's lips.

Sloane opened her mouth and took it, but her eyes remained locked on Cassandra's face, as if she were trying hard to remember something.

"What's your name?" Sloane asked after swallowing.

"Cassandra Jenson."

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

Cassandra scooped up another spoonful, this time adding a piece of fish, and offered it without missing a beat. "I'm a nurse here. Dr. Foster asked me to look after you."

Chewing the fish, Sloane let her gaze sweep from Cassandra's sharp, short haircut to the sports watch on her wrist, then down to the collarbone peeking out from her neckline. She swallowed, took a sip of water from her cup, and asked out of nowhere, "Is that Garrison Foster guy really a doctor here?"

Cassandra smiled. "Of course he is."

"What proof do you have?"

Cassandra set the bowl down, pulled out her phone, and scrolled for a moment before holding the screen up to Sloane's face. It was a photo of Garrison receiving the Nobel Prize in Medicine a few years ago. He was standing on the podium in a tailored suit, holding the trophy, with an LED screen behind him displaying "The Nobel Prize in Medicine," right next to the Swedish Royal Family who had presented the award.

"Garrison Foster, 20XX Nobel Prize in Medicine laureate, director of this very Haven Medical Center, and the top targeted cancer therapy specialist in the country."

Sloane choked out the oatmeal she had just swallowed.

She covered her mouth, coughing violently. Cassandra quickly went back to patting her back, murmuring, "Take it easy, take it easy." Wiping her mouth with a tissue, Sloane peeked over the paper, her eyes narrowed in a look that clearly said: Do you really expect me to believe that?

But she didn't press the issue.

Leaning back against her pillows, she watched Cassandra place the bowl back on the nightstand. When she spoke again, her voice was much softer. "Did I really... sleep here for ten years?"

Cassandra's movements halted. She rested the spoon against the edge of the bowl, turned to face Sloane, and her eyes grew slightly red.

"You did. Dr. Foster is a good man. He's been taking care of you all these years, never giving up. For your illness, for the research to find a cure for you—"

"He sacrificed his entire life."