Jerome didn't reject her kindness. He took the thermos and silverware, quickly polishing off the food.
An hour later.
Lizetta and Jerome arrived at the hospital. By the time they walked in, Eartha was already dressed in a crisp, striped hospital gown, sitting on the bed while doctors hovered around her, running pre-op checks.
If not for the handcuff chaining her wrist to the bedrail and the two plainclothes cops standing guard outside, she would have looked just as haughty as she used to be.
Catching sight of Lizetta and Jerome, Eartha smirked.
"Look who's here. Didn't get much sleep, did we? You both look awful. Where's Mr. Dashiell? Oh, right—he must be tearing the city apart looking for a ghost."
Her blatant arrogance made Lizetta want to grab a brick and smash it across her face.
But Lizetta kept her expression perfectly blank, taking a seat nearby.
"I'd hold off on the gloating if I were you, Eartha. Otherwise, who knows what kind of tragic accident might happen on the operating table."
Eartha's smile vanished, her eyes narrowing.
"Don't forget, Lizetta. If I die, you'll never see your son again. Now, where is Remington?"
A toxic shadow fell over Eartha's face.
Lizetta stared right back. "You're chained to a bed. Stop worrying about things above your pay grade."
"Oh, I think I have every right," Eartha sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice. "You still have to play nice and get me my new kidney, don't you?"
Lizetta's hands curled into tight fists at her sides. Seeing her blood boil, Eartha looked away, humming a cheerful little tune, thoroughly enjoying the moment.


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