Julian’s assistant found him sprawled on a velvet couch, face ghost-white, breathing shallow, eyes rolled back.
“Call 911!” someone screamed. “He’s dying!”
Panic exploded through the mansion. Staff crowded the room. Someone shook him. Someone cried.
Evelyn ran in—
But her daughters were already pushing forward.
“Girls, stop!” she shouted.
They didn’t.
Lina raised her voice—calm, steady, commanding.
“Everyone step back.”
And somehow… they did.
Sera knelt, placing her small hand on Julian’s chest, eyes closed.
“His heart’s too slow,” she said softly. “About forty beats. There’s pressure in his brain. Left side.”
Adults stared in disbelief.
Lina placed both hands on Julian’s temples.
“She’s right. If we don’t help now, he won’t make it.”
“This is insane,” the butler whispered.
“Please be quiet,” Lina said. “We need to focus.”
The twins closed their eyes.
The room went silent.
Warmth spread from their hands—real, undeniable heat. Some swore they saw a faint golden glow.
Two minutes passed.
Then Julian gasped.
A deep, desperate breath.
His eyes flew open. Color rushed back into his face. His body relaxed.
People stumbled backward in shock.
“What… happened?” Julian whispered.