"Rather than locking a pawn like that behind bars, it's far more beneficial to leave him right where he is—a ticking time bomb planted right inside the Grover home."
Andres was factoring in the massive web of political alliances shielding the Grovers.
Neither Thatcher nor Faye would just sit back and let their youngest son go down for manslaughter without a vicious fight.
Even if pushed to the absolute brink, they would use their considerable leverage to secure him a quiet, cushy plea deal.
Leaving Luke paranoid and roaming free was a much sharper blade to keep pressed against the family's throat.
By that evening, much to everyone's relief, Benjamin slowly opened his eyes.
Having slept deeply and eaten a hearty meal, Maeve was practically glowing with energy.
She scanned Benjamin's latest lab results, nodding in satisfaction as the majority of the numbers sat comfortably in the green.
A couple of markers were slightly off, but nothing alarming.
Once he cleared the initial critical window, his system would naturally recalibrate.
To maintain absolute sterility, only one visitor was allowed into the ICU at a time.
Dressed in full surgical PPE and a medical mask, Maeve pressed her stethoscope to his chest, listening to the strong, steady rhythm.
The new pump sounded flawless. At the very least, her grueling marathon surgery hadn't been a waste.
"Well, Baldy," she teased, "I'd say this custom-built New Year's present easily beats those six pills I gave the others."
Muffled beneath an oxygen mask, Benjamin couldn't form words, but he heard her loud and clear.
He slowly blinked in acknowledgment.
He wasn't just acknowledging her; his eyes radiated an overwhelming depth of gratitude for what she had sacrificed.
He had honestly believed she didn't care whether he lived or died, yet behind the scenes, she had meticulously architected his entire salvation.
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