Hospital Room 407 - 8:03 AM
Harold Smith looked like he'd aged a decade since Emily had seen him weeks ago. His skin was gray, his breathing labored despite the oxygen tubes. Monitors beeped steadily, tracking a heart that was clearly struggling.
But his eyes were open. Alert. Fixed on the door as if he'd been waiting.
"Emily," Harold said, his voice weak but clear. "You came."
"You asked for me," Emily said simply, pulling a chair close to the bed. "The doctor said it was urgent."
"It is," Harold said. He tried to shift in the bed, wincing with pain. "I don't have much time. Hours, maybe. And I need to tell you things. Things I should have told you years ago. Things Patricia can't know."
Emily's heart rate picked up. "What things?"
