“Don’t act like you have a moral high horse to sit on, Dr. Sweeney,” Ben sneered. “You’ve already written all those prescriptions. We’ve sold the drugs. You want to save your son, right? All we’re doing is making the product stretch further.”

I shook my head. This was a very dangerous plan. Fentanyl was one hundred times stronger than morphine. Small doses could be fatal.

But then I remembered what Dr. Palmer had said: Josh might not live to see the new year if we didn’t get him that treatment.

Ben had given me the $30,000 we’d agreed on for the first batch of prescriptions, which meant I had a grand total of $35,000 in my newly set up checking account. It wasn’t enough. At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to pay the remaining $63,000 to get Josh’s reprogrammed CAR T-cells injected in just over a week, let alone cover the copays, the deductible, and any new hospital bills, which were quickly piling up.

This was the only way.

“If you mess up, if you get even one grain wrong—” I began.

“I won’t.”

“You have to swear you’re clean. That you’re not going to use this stuff or mess up the dosing. If you aren’t clean, you won’t be able to do it right.”

“I’ve been clean since I got out of prison. I was in a drug program inside and haven’t touched anything since I got out.”

I studied my brother’s face. “Won’t this be harder? You’ll be closer to it.”

“Nawww, I’ll be fine. Besides, this way the urge can’t sneak up and surprise me. I’m staring the beast down.”

“Look.” Gabe tapped the red notebook in Ben’s hands. “Here are some of the people Violeta was distributing to. These are people who’ve been cut off by their doctor. If it weren’t for her, they’d have already turned to heroin. They’d probably be dead.”

I reached for the notebook, but Ben snatched it away.

“Why don’t you come with us on Thursday?” he said. “I’ll show you the people you’ll help.”

That word—help—caught me.

“Just stop arguing, sweetheart,” Gabe said, exasperated. I glared at him, wanting him to stop calling me sweetheart, but then he smiled slowly, those dimples flashing, and said, “We’ll get more money faster, and then we’ll be done with it. It’s what you want. Right?”

I nodded, relenting. Just a few more weeks, and I’d be out of this. “Okay. You’re right. But I can’t lose my license. Nobody can find out about my involvement.”