Witch Hearts Novels & Stories

"Before you do anything, think about the secrets only I know about…" "Disturb my peace again, and wait for me to use your biggest fear against you. Your secret is your weakness, and remember, I became your wife to keep it safe... Be warned, Archie." With that, she stood back on her feet and walked out of the room with a long, elegant stride. Archie turned to face the door, his expression twisted in a mixture of emotions; sadness, pain, shock. Suddenly, a flash of memories burst into his mind, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head in a futile attempt to ward off the images. But it was no use.

Direct information was a gift. She explained the condition. The irregularity in the right ventricle had been causing a pattern of electrical misfiring that over time could lead to a more serious arrhythmia. It had likely been present for several years in a form too subtle to detect. The recent scan had caught it at a stage where intervention was clearly warranted.

We stayed that way for a long while until we heard the doors to the operating room open. Everyone stood at once. I moved forward instinctively and stopped in front of Dr. Owen, our family doctor. “What’s going on, Dr. Owen?” I demanded. “What’s wrong with my father?” Dr. Owen sighed, rubbing his temples before looking at us gravely. “Vincent suffered from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” he said carefully. “It’s a condition where the heart muscle becomes abnormally thick. In many cases, there are little to no symptoms until it’s too late. Stress can also trigger a heart attack.”

Harper barked, "Suspected graft rejection—start methylprednisolone IV, stat! Check troponin and BNP levels now!" Dr. Robert gripped the defibrillator paddles while Dr. Ellis injected meds, their voices overlapping in urgent rhythm. "Possible primary graft failure," Dr. Ellis snapped, sweat beading on her brow. "Push fluids and get that echo ready—what's her output?" Charlotte pressed her stethoscope to the patient's chest, fingers trembling as she called out vitals, her face draining of color. The team worked feverishly, shocking the heart back once, twice, until a fragile beat stuttered to life.

They tried to tie up the points of flow but the whole chest just kept filling with blood. “I need a few doses of Tenormin” “Doctor?” One of the attending subjects stalled. “We need to slow down the bleeding” she explained. At this point, the heart monitor was way beyond normal. A sudden failure of the heart to pump would result in Cardiogenic shock. “ We are going to slightly move the patient to allow us to make an anterolateral thoracotomy incision.” Again they brought the suction tubes to clear away the blood. Then they spotted an unusual deformity that had developed around the heart.

"Nice pick, Dr. Clayton." "Please call me Noah." "Being a popular cardiologist at the age of 28.. pretty impressive. What makes you want to be a cardiologist?" I put down my wine glass and put my attention fully to him. "I lost my little sister to heart complications 20 years ago so that made me want to save people who have heart problems." He swirled his wine glass. "I bet she's happy to have a great brother like you. You're saving people now." "How about you? You have a passion for cars." He put down his wine glass and turned to me.

Yet sitting here, I couldn’t deny the pull of history and lingering love. Dr. Patel arrived shortly after with a cardiologist, Dr. Ramirez, a sharp-eyed man in his fifties carrying a tablet loaded with scans. They pulled up chairs, their expressions professional but serious. “Mr. Voss,” Dr. Ramirez began, “your collapse yesterday was a significant warning. The full diagnosis confirms what we suspected: Stage 2 hypertensive heart disease with early signs of dilated cardiomyopathy. Your heart muscle has weakened under prolonged stress. We’re seeing reduced ejection fraction—meaning your heart isn’t pumping as efficiently as it should.”

"Walter Halden had a heart attack eight weeks after the plant closed. I don't know for certain it was related to the stress of losing everything he'd built. I have never let myself find out for sure, because I was afraid of the answer." I stood very still, letting the shape of it settle into something real instead of the vague dread Vaughn's warning had planted. "That's nothing, Damien. Three hundred families—" "I know," he said, and the rawness in his voice told me he'd never stopped knowing, not for a single day of the eight years since. "I saved this company that quarter. I also made a decision that ended a town's livelihood without properly weighing what it would cost the people in it, b

“He’s conscious now. Awake and alert. We’ve run some preliminary tests. I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.” “Yes. Anything. Please.” I followed him into his office. He sat opposite me, holding a tablet. “We’re still awaiting a few results, but we’re concerned this may be cardiac-related. Specifically, something called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.” “What?” I blinked. “Cardio—what?” “Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It’s a condition where the heart muscle becomes abnormally thick, making it harder for the heart to pump blood.” I stared at him. “But—he’s fine. He’s always been fine.”

He would say to himself to convince himself to stay. Hours later, after several tests, he was informed that the woman had a cardiac arrhythmia, she had an accelerated heartbeat, they were not going to discharge her for the moment because they were evaluating her to study the cause of her sudden illness, apart from that she had an incipient miscarriage.