I stood where I was, still and watching. Elena had sunk onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling against her lap, her breathing uneven as though she could no longer steady herself.
For the first time since this began, there was no resistance left in her, no pride, no denial, only a quiet, creeping fear she could not suppress. And Victor looked like a man standing at the edge of something he did not understand.
The doctor arrived less than forty minutes later, quietly and discreetly. The front gates opened without the usual announcement, and a single dark car rolled into the compound, its headlights cutting briefly across the marble floors through the tall windows before fading into stillness.
No staff gathered, no whispers followed. Victor had made sure of that. This was not something the house was meant to witness. Dr. Harlan stepped in with the ease of someone who had been here many times before, his expression composed and professional, but alert.
