Page 25 of Fractured Devotion
She isn’t spiraling.
She’s tracking.
And whatever she finds at the end of the trail, it’s going to change everything.
By noon, I’ve already reviewed three patient files and scrubbed into a case I wasn’t emotionally equipped for. A fractured skull with embedded hardware, a relic from a failed neuro-interface trial. The kind of thing that doesn’t make itinto Miramont’s quarterly reports. We fixed what we could and stabilized what we couldn’t.
It’s the kind of work that grounds me and forces my hands to remember what they’re good at. Trauma medicine doesn’t ask questions. It just expects solutions.
When I finally leave the surgical suite, the silence of my office feels heavier than usual. I sit, then I stand. And I pace. Then I stop and go back to my seat.
I open Celeste’s old logs again.
This time, I read more slowly.
I’m not looking for breakthroughs.
I’m looking for breadcrumbs.
Halfway through a fragmented entry dated two years ago, I find it—a reference to an unused baseline algorithm, one meant to detect micro-expressions in patients under deep cognitive regression. The entry is unfinished, trailed off mid-thought.
But the signature is unmistakable.
It’s not a name but a phrase.
“Truth is felt, not told.”
It’s hers. I’ve seen her write it on the inside of notebooks, once on the corner of a surgical glove, and once etched into the condensation of her coffee mug.
It’s not just her motto. It’s her shield.
A knock pulls me from the screen.
This time, it’s not Harper.
It’s Kade.
He steps into my office like he belongs there.
“You’re reading her logs,” he says without preamble.
My spine stiffens. “I’m catching up on old projects.”
He nods slowly. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
“No. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
He leans a hip against the edge of my desk, studying me like I’m a specimen. “You care about her.”
“I respect her.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
I don’t answer.
Kade smiles, and it’s not kind. “Just be careful where you’re standing when her foundation finally cracks. She’s not the only one with something buried.”
Then he turns like it costs him nothing, and moves away.
