The hospital air was heavy with silence, broken only by the mechanical beeping of machines and the occasional shuffle of nurses moving down sterile hallways. In Room 307, Mike Richard remained unconscious, his chest rising and falling at the mercy of the ventilator, his face pale under the dim lighting.

Cynthia sat at the edge of the hospital bed, her palm resting lightly over his, whispering yet again the same words she'd repeated for days. "Come back to me, Mike. We need you... I need you."

The peace at that moment shattered like glass.

The double doors slammed open.

Isabella stormed into the room, rage radiating off her like waves...