Deirdre backtracked into Kyran’s room and curled into herself on the bed after hiding under the blanket. She realized she could not face Madame Brighthall at all. If the old lady would ask her to see Brendan one more time—if she would even beg her without caring about her usual status and seniority—Deirdre could not be sure if she would say yes out of empathetic pain alone.

Fortunately for her, two days passed without many incidents. At most, she would overhear the nurses’ conversation while doing laundry as they discussed how low Brendan’s odds were at survival.

“Why must all geniuses die young, huh? He’s so young and brilliant and just a shining star! Why must every star fall?”

“Girl, there were cameras around the door when I checked in for work. Someone must have leaked the news out to the press, and now even the reporters are flooding in.”

“Jesus Christ. Are they vultures or what? The surgery hasn’t even finished yet, and these sh*theads are already milking the story for money