Just then, Gustave spoke. “Rigby, you heard Ms. Judson. Congratulations, you’ve got the part. Go home, prepare, and wait for the official notification to join the production.”
“Okay. Thank you, Gustave,” Rigby replied.
He turned to leave, brushing the dust from his back as he went.
Outside the room, his gaze fell on Larissa’s retreating figure. After a moment of hesitation, he made up his mind and strode after her.
Just as Larissa was about to get into her car, Rigby took a deep breath and called out, “Ms. Judson, please wait!”
Larissa paused and turned, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “If it’s about the show, you should talk to Gustave…”
“It’s not about the show, Ms. Judson,” Rigby interrupted, his expression earnest. “I heard… that you’re skilled in medicine. Is that true?”
Larissa stared at him. “Are you sick?”
Realizing how that might sound, she quickly rephrased, “I mean, are you ill?”
Rigby shook his head. “It’s not me, it’s my uncle. For the past three years, his mind has become increasingly foggy. His memory is failing, and sometimes he doesn’t even recognize me. Over the last six months, he’s started sleeping for longer and longer periods.”
He paused, then continued, “I know it’s presumptuous of me to approach you like this, but I heard you’re an incredibly talented doctor. They say you can even cure Haskell Palmer’s legs, a condition no doctor in the country could fix.”
A playful smile touched Larissa’s lips. “But my fees aren’t cheap, you know.”


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