"Dr. Fox?" A colleague stepped forward, concern etched across her face.
"I'm fine," I choked out, waving her off. "Just... something I ate."
I focused on the paramedics rushing in, helping them load the children onto stretchers. The weight of their small bodies. The terror in their eyes.
Throughout the chaos, Dominic's gaze burned into my back.
He suspected me.
Let him suspect.
In this life, Dominic Henson's opinion was the least of my concerns.
I climbed into the back of an ambulance, desperate to put distance between myself and the monsters in that cafeteria.
At the hospital, chaos reigned.
Parents flooded the emergency waiting room—faces twisted with fear, with rage.
After I briefed them on the situation—poisonous mushrooms in the school lunch—the atmosphere shifted. Worry curdled into something violent.
One father, a burly man with tattoos crawling up both arms, spotted Caroline arriving with Dominic.
He roared and lunged.
"You! You're the kitchen assistant!"
Caroline shrieked and darted behind Dominic. Her trembling finger shot toward me.