Turning her head, she saw Willard sitting beside her bed, his tall frame hunched slightly in the chair. His brows were drawn tight, his gaze fixed on her with what almost looked like… concern.
Her lips twitched into a stiff, bitter smile.
How ironic.
The man who had forced her onto the operating table, taken her kidney, and driven her father to his death now sat there pretending to care.
She closed her eyes, unwilling to even look at him.
“The doctor said your emotions got worked up and the stitches reopened,” Willard said with a sigh, sounding helpless. “Daisie, what exactly are you trying to do?”
‘Trying to do?’ she asked back inwardly.
Her eyes snapped open, burning with fury.
“My dad’s dead. You think I should be celebrating?” Her voice trembled with anger. “If it weren’t for Kendra, he wouldn’t have died at all!”
Willard’s frown deepened. He let out another sigh.
“Every surgery carries risk. Dr. Wilson is one of the best specialists in the field. No one wanted this outcome. You can’t blame Kendra for that. She was only trying to help.”