Rhiannon Campbell stood at the clinic doorway in a white coat, her expression indifferent.
Curtis Prescott stared at her, his gaze piercing.
"I'm not here for a consultation. I wanted to ask if you went to Nightcap on the night of December 23rd? That bar is just two blocks away from where Tristan Sterling's incident happened."
Rhiannon's brow furrowed, and a barely noticeable ripple flickered in her eyes.
"If you're not here for a consultation, please leave. I don't have time for idle chitchat. The hospital has rules; I can't freely answer questions from strangers."
Curtis stood unmoved, his heels firmly nailed to the ground.
"Do you like Tristan Sterling? Or have you always thought there might be a future for the two of you?"
Rhiannon's face changed instantly.
Her previously calm expression cracked, and her voice involuntarily rose.
"What nonsense are you spouting? He and I are just regular friends! I don't need to listen to such baseless speculation!"
