His jaw tightened.
“Where did that come from?” he asked suddenly, turning toward the doctors, his tone shifting again, sharper now, searching for something darker.
The room quieted.
Because now—
The question wasn’t about saving a life anymore.
It was about how it had almost been taken.
And for the first time—
Richard realized something far more dangerous than losing his son.
He realized—
He might have trusted the wrong people.
The room shifted again, but not with panic this time, instead with something colder, something that crept in quietly and settled deep into every breath taken.
No one spoke immediately, because the question Richard had asked carried consequences no one was ready to face in that moment.
The chief physician cleared his throat, trying to steady the situation, trying to bring it back into something clinical, something manageable, something safe.
“Sometimes,” he began carefully, “foreign materials can enter through manufacturing defects in feeding equipment or—”
“No,” Richard cut him off, his voice low but firm, the kind that didn’t need volume to carry authority.
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