Usually, if this man slept on a sofa, his endlessly long legs would have nowhere to go.
But today, he was curled into a tight ball, his back hunched, letting out groans of sheer agony.
What was wrong with him...?
Sheila desperately wanted to turn around and walk right back out that door.
But her feet felt glued to the floor.
Just one look.
Just a quick look to make sure he was okay.
As long as he wasn't dying, she would leave him be.
Sheila took a deep breath, completely unaware that her fingernails were digging so hard into her palms they might break the skin.
She didn't feel the pain.
Step by step, she approached the delirious man. She crouched down and asked, "Are you okay?"
Edmond didn't react.
But now that she was close, Sheila realized his forehead was slick with sweat. He was deathly pale, his hands tightly gripping his chest.
He looked like he might pass out at any second.
Sheila's mind went entirely blank of their past grievances.
She tried to help him sit up, but Edmond was a tall, heavily muscled man. There was no way she could lift him.
Calling his name, she pulled out her phone and dialed Dante Spencer's number.
No answer.
Sheila immediately dialed the local emergency services.
But she knew perfectly well how unreliable the healthcare system in this area could be.
Even if an ambulance took him to the ER, who knew how many hours he'd have to wait to be seen.
"Edmond! Edmond, wake up!"
She knew a man of his status definitely had a private physician, or even a full medical team on standby, even abroad.
Panicking, she grabbed his hand and pressed her thumb hard into a pressure point between his thumb and index finger.
Her Aunt Nadine used to use this holistic trick to relieve her pain in the past.
She had no idea if it would work, but right now, it was a desperate Hail Mary.
She kept pressing while continuously calling his name.
Edmond's eyelashes fluttered. A second later, his eyes slowly drifted open.



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