Brad's medical files were spread across the sleep conference table like a battlefield of paper and ink. Each scan and test result showed a new layer of damage, weaving a picture that pulled at every corner of Amelia's calm exterior. She stood there, posture straight, surgical mask in place, her expression unreadable as her eyes moved methodically from one file to the next. Behind that cool stillness, her mind was working with precision, running through possibilities, risks, and outcomes with the speed of instinct born from years of practice.
"The nerve damage is extensive," she said, keeping her tone smooth and controlled as she set down one of the scans. "Multiple fractures, severe tissue trauma. And those previous surgeries…" She allowed herself a brief pause, just enough to make the truth hit. "They were done poorly. Whoever handled them made it harder for anyone to repair what is left."
