Page 194 of Toxic Temptation
“Kovan, that’s not an answer.” I stand up, moving closer to him. “Tell me what they’re doing. In plain English, not corporate mambo-jumbo.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do. I absolutely do.” My hands curl into fists at my sides. “These people have been stealing from sick children. They’ve been putting profits over patients while I’ve been begging for basic equipment. They need to be held accountable.”
He nods, a grim motion that sends a graveyard chill racing through me. “And they will be.”
“How?”
Instead of answering, he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger against my cheek. “Can’t you trust me to handle this?”
“I do trust you.” I catch his hand, pressing his palm flat against my face. “But I also want to help. Ineedto help. These bastards have gotten away with this for too long, and I’m tired of being powerless.”
His eyes darken. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”
“Then explain it to me.” I stand and step even closer, until I’m standing between his knees, hands flat on his chest. “I’m not some delicate flower who needs protecting from ugly truths, Kovan. I’m a surgeon. I’ve seen plenty of ugly.”
“Not like this.”
“Kovan.” I close my eyes and focus on the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palms. “I meant what I said at the gala. Iwant all of you. That includes the parts you think will scare me away.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The office is so quiet that I can hear the air conditioning cycling on and off.
Finally, he covers my hands with his. “If I tell you, there’s no going back. You can’t unknow what I’m about to say.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
He studies my face again, searching for something. Whatever he finds there must satisfy him, because he nods slowly.
“Your board isn’t just embezzling hospital funds,” he says quietly. “They’re facilitating the sale of harvested organs on the black market.”
I thought I was ready for what he was going to say. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Hearing the words is like sticking a fork in a socket—as soon as they process in my head, I’m rocked by an invisible force. Not quite painful, but I actually take a step backward.
“That’s…” I shake my head. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” He furrows his brow. “Think about it, Vesper. Haven’t you seen shady shit? Patients who die unexpectedly. Autopsies that get waived. Families who are pressured to make quick burial arrangements. You’ve seen all of that, haven’t you?”
My mind starts racing, cataloging every suspicious death I’ve witnessed over the past year. All the tiny red flags. One by one, they’re forgettable. But when you knit them together, you see that the flag isn’t just big—it’s huge, tidal.
An ocean of red.
Of blood.
Of misery.
Of death.
“Oh, God.” I sink back into the chair, no longer trusting my legs to hold me up. “How long?”
“At least three years. Possibly longer.”
“How many victims?”
“We’re still determining that.”
The room starts to spin. I press my fists against my temples, trying to make sense of what he’s telling me. “I need to report this. The police, the medical board?—”
“No.”
