Elias Pov

The glass walls of my office felt like they were closing in. I sat behind my desk, my eyes tracking the digital clock on the wall. Every second that ticked by was a second Margaret was lying in that hospital bed, and a second my mother was pacing the halls of our home like a caged animal.

The phone on my desk buzzed. It was the lead surgeon in charge of Margret.

"She’s stable, Mr. Lawson," the doctor said. "The transfusion took well. Her vitals are strong, and she’s resting. We’ll keep her under observation, but the immediate danger has passed."

I exhaled, a long, shaky breath. "Thank...