Veronica was stunned. "What?"
"It means that three hundred late-stage cancer patients in the clinical trials could die."
Grace's voice was soft, but her words hit like a hammer.
"My time is spent saving lives, not getting into petty fights with you over a man."
"And another thing. To me, Damien isn't the heir to some great fortune."
"He's just my husband."
With that, Grace turned and got into an ordinary black sedan.
Veronica stood frozen, the Hermès bag in her hand, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, suddenly feeling like a hot iron.
The family status and beauty she was so proud of seemed so pale and insignificant in the face of the exhaustion in Grace’s eyes—an exhaustion born from fighting for mere milligrams of data.
"Veronica, just let it go."
A weary voice came from behind her.
It was Veronica's best friend, Rachel Miller.
Rachel was known in their social circle for being the most level-headed one, and she had little patience for Veronica's lovesick antics.
"Rachel, you're taking her side too?"
Veronica stomped her foot in frustration, but her eyes were red.
"I can't accept it! Damien and I grew up together…"
"Come on, let's get some coffee. I have something to show you."
Rachel didn't take no for an answer, pushing Veronica into her car.
Half an hour later, in a quiet corner of an upscale café, Rachel tossed a thick file folder onto the table in front of Veronica.
"What's this?" Veronica asked, sniffling, still feeling wronged.
"These are Grace’s 'medical records' for the past five years. This is her life," Rachel said, her voice trembling slightly.
Veronica skeptically opened the first page.
The first thing she saw was a copy of a bone marrow donation consent form.
It was signed.
Next to it was a photograph. In the picture, Grace was being held down by two people as a needle was roughly inserted into her spine.

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