A muffled, frantic sound — followed by the rapid alarm of a heart monitor.
Adrian’s blood turned to ice.
He tightened his grip on the flowers until the stems snapped. His instincts screamed before his mind could catch up. Something was wrong.
He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.
Time fractured.
Lila was standing over the bed.
Both hands pressed a pillow down over Eleanor’s face.
His mother’s frail fingers clawed weakly at Lila’s wrists, her body fighting for air.
“What are you doing?!” Adrian’s voice tore through the room.
Lila jolted back, dropping the pillow.
Eleanor gasped violently, the monitor shrieking.
The bouquet hit the floor.
Adrian crossed the room in seconds, shoving Lila away and shielding his mother.
“Mom, breathe. I’m here,” he whispered urgently, holding her face as she coughed and trembled.
When he turned toward Lila, her expression chilled him more than the attack itself.
There was no remorse in her eyes.
Only frustration.
“You tried to kill her,” he said quietly.
“No! She was choking!” Lila cried, her voice high and frantic. “I was helping her!”
“I saw you,” Adrian growled.
Nurses rushed in, followed by security.
Cornered, Lila’s mask began to crack.