Then my stomach dropped. An hour ago, I'd received word that Clay's mother had suffered a heart attack. I'd called Clay myself, begging him to perform the surgery personally.
The realization hit me like ice water. I zoomed in on the photo with shaking hands.
The woman on that table was my mother-in-law.
Blood roared in my ears. I dialed Evangeline Fox, my voice cold enough to freeze steel. "Evangeline Fox, do you have any idea who's on your operating table? That's Clay Farley's biological mother. You're using her as a practice case?"
Evangeline didn't miss a beat.
"Dr. Farley already told me—your mom is your mom, and his mom is his mom. He never once considered your mother family. She leeches off the Farley name and still isn't satisfied, trying to climb the social ladder over a little illness. I'm teaching her a lesson on Dr. Farley's behalf. What's the problem?"
"You're wrong! That IS his mother, not mine!" I screamed, the words tearing out of me. The absurdity of it was maddening.
"Oh, drop the act. Dr. Farley said it himself—your mother is a pathetic freeloader. Wouldn't be a loss if she dropped dead."