Chapter 474
Colton drew a slow breath, working to keep a lid on his temper. “Fine. I’m going.” He gave Driscoll a pointed look and walked out.
The door had barely closed before the tension in Kristine’s body began to ease. “Give me the thermometer,” she said.
Driscoll exhaled with visible relief and handed her a fresh one. Kristine placed it herself without another word.
A moment later, she shifted her position and flinched — a sharp, involuntary sound escaping her.
“What is it? Where does it hurt?” Driscoll asked at once.
Kristine steadied her expression before answering. “My leg. It’s very painful — I think it may be a cramp. Dr. White, would you please examine it?”
Driscoll carefully rolled up Kristine’s pant leg, revealing an alarming red bruise on her knee.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly as he studied it. “Are you certain it was just a cramp?”
Kristine looked away before he could catch her eye. “I don’t know. It just hurts, and my legs feel completely hollow — like they’re not even part of me.”
“It’s likely from kneeling for so long,” Driscoll said. “Prolonged pressure on the joints can disrupt blood flow.”
His calm tone gave Kristine enough courage to keep talking. “Really? Because this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”
Driscoll’s brows drew together. “When did the symptoms start?”
“Just over the last few days,” she replied.
He stopped speaking and directed his full attention to her legs, working through a thorough examination. His careful, methodical approach made it clear he was genuinely uncertain about what had caused this.
Kristine felt a cautious thread of relief. “Dr. White, what do you make of it?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He pressed his fingers into her calf muscles. “Can you feel this pressure?”
She shook her head.
He tapped her knee for a reflex response. “And this?”
Nothing. She shook her head again.
Driscoll’s face grew serious. “Your muscles are deteriorating. They’re soft, they’ve lost their elasticity, and you have no sensation when pressure is applied. Your knee reflex is absent as well. These are clear indicators of muscle atrophy.”
A cold weight settled in Kristine’s chest. “Muscle atrophy? Does that mean I’m going to be paralyzed?”
“It hasn’t progressed that far,” Driscoll said gently. “But the weakness will be significant. Standing will be difficult, you’ll be prone to falling, and stairs will be a challenge. That said, Ms. Green — we caught this early. If treatment begins now, you can recover.”
He continued speaking, but Kristine had stopped hearing him.
She sat with the full weight of it settling over her.
Colton had drugged her deliberately. He had set out to waste her muscles, to leave her disabled and dependent, so she could never leave him. This was the man she had once given everything she had.
After a moment, she lifted her eyes to Driscoll’s. “Dr. White, please don’t mention the diagnosis to Colton yet. I don’t want him worrying about me.”
Driscoll thought of how frantically Colton had paced the hallway and gave a quick nod. “Of course.”