Chapter 319

A chill shot up Yesenia's spine. Her body went rigid, her eyes fixed on Latisha as her

face paled.

After a long moment, she slowly turned to face Clifford, forcing a smile. "I was just joking. You know me, I speak without thinking."

Clifford looked at her, his expression flat. “You can be foolish,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet warning, "but you can't be a fool all the time."

The words were a slap in the face. Yesenia's smile froze.

"Are you calling me foolish?" she asked, incredulous that he would say such a thing to her.

"I'm not calling you foolish. I'm reminding you."

Yesenia's eyelid twitched. She and Clifford might have a casual way of speaking, but being humiliated in front of Latisha was more than she could bear. She shot him a venomous glare, turned on her heel, and stormed out, her stilettos clicking angrily against the floor.

After she was gone, Clifford glanced at Latisha.

Latisha showed no reaction, no hint of triumph at his defense of her. She knew better than to be delusional. This was just part of their dynamic, their twisted game. If she allowed herself to believe he'd done it for her, she would only be setting herself up for another fall. She wasn't going to make that mistake again.

She silently held out the files to him. Clifford studied her for a moment before taking them and walking back to his office.

A familiar ache began to throb in her lower abdomen again. Latisha leaned against the desk, taking deep breaths until the worst of it passed. She grabbed a glass of water from the dispenser, drained it, and sank weakly into her chair.

Later that afternoon, with nothing else to do, she rested her head on the desk.

A notification from her phone startled her awake. It was a message from Clifford, telling her to go home early. He didn't give a reason.

Latisha checked the time. It was five-thirty. She packed her things and left the office, but instead of going home, she took a taxi to the hospital. She was almost out of painkillers, and she wanted to visit Mrs. Dashiell. It had been too long.

Once at the hospital, she was lucky enough to get an appointment with her usual doctor. The doctor remembered her-it was hard to forget the mute patient and pulled up her life his expression growing grim. Seemingly tired of repeating himself, he just wrote ouba slip for some tests.

When the results came back, the doctor's face was serious. "It's still inflamed. This time, it's cervicitis. Did you take the medication I prescribed before?"

Latisha paused, then shook her head. She couldn't even remember him prescribing any.

The doctor sighed, looking utterly defeated. He typed furiously and handed her a new prescription. "Go get an IV. And schedule a follow up. youdon't want this to turn into cancer, you need to take your medicine, abstain from sexual activity, and if you absolutely can't, for God's sake, use some

protection."

After so many visits, Latisha had

grown a thicker skin. The words

were embarrassing, but they no

longer made her blush. She nodded, took the prescription and went to the infusion center. She knew the routine by now: hand over the slip, wait for her name to be called.

The center was busy in the evening, filled with patients. Most had someone with them. She was the only one sitting alone.

Across from her sat a young couple. The girl was on a drip, and her boyfriend sat beside her, looking worried, gently rubbing her stomach from time to time.

Latisha pursed her lips and looked away.