Page 21 of A Prescription to My Heart

I know I should walk away, but there’s something about his tone that makes my stomach clench. He’s always controlled, cold even, but right now, there’s a sharp edge beneath his words.

I inch closer, pressing myself against the wall just outside the on-call room. The door is cracked open, just enough for me to hear.

“You have no right,”Soren snaps, his voice low but vibrating with restrained fury.

A muffled response filters through, and I realize he’s on the phone. I can’t hear the other person clearly, just the sharp, clipped rhythm of their words. But it’s enough to piece together the general idea of the conversation.

I shouldn’t be listening.

But I do, because then Soren exhales sharply, and when he speaks again, it’s even colder.

“You think I’m unfit? That Marigold would bebetter offwith you two?”

My breath catches.Marigold?I shift closer, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“She’smydaughter,” Soren growls. “She’s not going anywhere.”

There’s a long pause. Then a quieter, almost mocking voice on the other end, and I swear I feel the temperature drop.

Soren’s next words are lethal. “You think some hack judge would take my daughter away from me? I will bury anyone foolish enough to even try.”

My stomach clenches. They’re threatening to take Marigold away.

A chill spreads through me, tightening my grip on the chart in my hands.

Soren exhales again, and there’s a scrape of movement—like he’s pacing, barely holding himself together.

“She’snotgoing to live with you,” he says, voice thick with something I can’t place. “Lisa wanted—” He stops abruptly, like the words choke him.

I take in a breath. Lisa. His late wife.

Another pause. Then, softer, but no less deadly, “You were never there for us when she was alive. You don’t get to act like you care now.”

And then it clicks—he’s speaking to his in-laws. What kind of grandparents would think taking their grandchild from her father was right? Who could be so cruel? Soren huffs out a bitter laugh. “No, I’m not discussing this any further. You want to go to court? Try me.”

There’s more muffled talking, and then Soren makes a sound—half laugh, half exhale, something exhausted and furious.

“I don’t care what youthinkis best. This conversation is over.”

The call ends.

Silence.

For a second, I think he might stay in there, fuming, trying to gather himself. But then I hear movement, heavy footsteps coming toward me.

I straighten, stepping back just as Soren pushes the door open. He freezes the moment he sees me. For a second, neither of us speaks.

His expression hardens immediately, his face a mask of irritation, but there’s something else behind it—something unsettled. Worried.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.

I could lie. I probably should.

But I don’t.

“Long enough,” I say softly.

His jaw tightens.

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