Too Late For Regret, Mr. Booth

ed in Manhattan's medical elite that Elise could no longer distinguish them. She sat with Heaven's file clutched agains

their voices pitched for gossi

The Booth trust fund basically bough

kids, though. Not e

ay. Those boys could ask for the moo

file folder. The cardboar

st's voice cut through her rag

e office beyond was exactly what she'd expected-mahogany and leather, diplomas from institutions that rejected a thousand ap

He was seventy, perhaps, his hair white and wild, hi

s from his desk. "The child can use t

er with the automatic adjustment of a child who'd spent too many hours in

hypoplastic left heart syndrome. Your

didn't change as he read, but something in his posture shifted, a subtle straightening

g. Your success rate, your techniques, the equipment you have acce

es met hers, and she saw the

take th

nglish, they were clear, but they refu

ha

e Booth Trust's endowment gives them priority access to my surgical schedule. It's booked solid for the next two years with th

with glass. "You're telling me that because some bill

we breach it." Frye's jaw tightened. "The trust fund's endowment built this clinic. Their lawyers wro

d, her hands flat on his desk, her body leaning into his s

n who can release me from this contract is Callum Booth himself. A

tinged lips, the visible pulse in her throat that beat too fast, t

yes and Jaida's name, who built cathedrals from plasti

vent she'd planned to avoid, the crowd she'd intended

or your time

out of the clinic, into the gray November afternoon. On the

. Tonight. Something that will make h

t promised snow, at the city that had taken

To make a man regret every breath