It was a sinner's suicide for anyone to work at Coopers Incorporation. It was no surprise that people aimed to stray far from the Devil known as Mr Elijah Cooper.
Cold, demanding, and rough, he ruled over everything with an iron grip and a calculati...
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Nora's P.O.V
They say life can change in the blink of an eye, but no one ever warns you about how cruel that change can be. One moment, I was sipping coffee, frustrated over a missed meeting, and the next, my entire world was crashing down around me. Hope is a funny thing-it's the one thing you cling to when everything else is gone. But even hope felt like a fragile thread slipping through my trembling fingers.
I was living in that moment.
My hands trembled as I clutched my phone, the words of the unknown caller replaying over and over in my head like a cruel echo.
"Your mother is in a very bad condition."
No.
This couldn't be real.
My vision blurred with tears, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. My fingers, numb and shaking, somehow managed to dial Jane's number. She picked up on the second ring.
"Nora? What's wrong?"
I tried to speak, but my voice broke. A choked sob escaped before I could stop it.
"Jane... it's Mom. She-she's in the hospital. They said... she's in a bad condition." My words were barely coherent between my ragged breathing.
"What?!" Jane's voice sharpened with concern. "Oh my God. I'm coming, okay? I'll be right there. Stay strong, Nora."
Stay strong?
How was I supposed to stay strong when the only person who had ever been my safe place, my constant, was lying on a hospital bed, fighting for her life?
I ran into the hospital, my legs barely keeping up with my desperation. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears like a war drum. My hands were shaking as I clutched the reception desk.
"R-Rose Jones," I stammered, my voice cracking under the weight of fear. "Where... where is she?"
The receptionist's eyes widened slightly, taking in my disheveled state-mascara smeared across my cheeks, my hair a mess, my entire body trembling.
"She's in room 306, fourth floor," she said gently.
I didn't wait. I couldn't. The elevator was too slow. I sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, my lungs burning, my vision blurring with unshed tears. My mind was a storm of questions, fear clawing at my sanity.
How did this happen? Was she okay? Was she even alive?
As I reached the fourth floor, my heart nearly stopped. Two policemen stood outside the room, their presence a grim omen. My stomach twisted into knots. This wasn't just an accident. Something was horribly, terribly wrong.
