POV: Eleanor---The ambulance came screaming down the quiet street, its red lights painting the brownstones in pulses of crimson and shadow.Eleanor Ashford stood in the doorway of her townhouse, her hands pressed against her chest, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. Behind her, Damian lay on the parlor floor where he had fallen—pale, still, his breath shallow and uneven. She had called 911 with trembling fingers, her voice cracking as she gave the address she had lived at for forty years.Please hurry. Please, please hurry.The paramedics arrived within minutes. Two men and a woman in dark uniforms, moving with practiced efficiency, their faces calm and focused. They knelt beside Damian, checked his pupils, his pulse, his breathing. They spoke to each other in clipped, professional tones—words Eleanor couldn't quite catch, words that sounded too clinical for the chaos unfolding in her chest."Ma'am?" One of the paramedics—a young man with kind eyes—touched h
Last Updated : 2026-08-20 Read more