I locked the phone, a grim calm settling over me. Then it vanished — a burning shot up my left forearm, straight through the painkillers, and my fingers under the cast went numb.

A hematoma was compressing the median nerve. If the pressure wasn’t relieved within the hour, the tissue would die, and I would never hold a scalpel again.

Chapter 4 — The Excision

The emergency fasciotomy saved the nerve, but the damage was deep. I spent the weekend in a private recovery suite, heavily medicated, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Monday.

Monday was the day it all came due for David and Barbara.

At 9:00 AM, Diana sat beside my bed with her iPad propped on the tray table, and we watched the live feed from the living-room camera. David was on the custom Italian sofa in his bathrobe, scrolling through channels.

Barbara sat in the armchair filing her nails, drinking coffee from one of my favorite mugs. They looked entirely comfortable in the kingdom they thought they’d taken.