Chapter 307
Chapter 307:
But Rose hadn’t taken what mattered most. Camille was alive. Alexander was alive. And Victoria…
Victoria had to survive too. She had to.
The ambulance swerved suddenly, throwing them sideways. Camille heard the driver curse, then the squeal of brakes. They had stopped.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Alexander moved to the front, spoke briefly with the driver, then returned. His expression was grim.
“There’s been a multi-car accident ahead. All lanes are blocked. They’re finding an alternate route, but it’s going to delay us.”
“And Victoria?” Camille’s voice rose with panic. “Is she stuck too?”
“Her ambulance went ahead of us. It should have reached the hospital by now.”
Camille felt cold fear wrap around her heart. Every minute mattered with Victoria’s condition. Any delay could be fatal.
“We need to get there,” she whispered. “Now.”
Alexander squeezed her hand. “We will. I promise.”
But promises weren’t enough. Not when Victoria’s life hung in the balance. Not when the woman who had saved Camille, who had become a mother to her, who had shown her how to rise from the ashes of her old life, might be taking her last breaths alone in a hospital room.
Camille closed her eyes, silently pleading with whatever power might be listening.
Not yet. Please, not yet. Not like this. Not because of Rose.
The ambulance finally began moving again, sirens wailing as it sought a path through the chaos of the city. But to Camille, it felt as though they were barely crawling.
And with each passing second, the distance between her and Victoria seemed to grow, a gulf she feared might become permanent before she had the chance to cross it one last time.
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Victoria Kane lay on a hospital gurney, an oxygen mask covering her pale face, as doctors worked frantically around her. Her body, already weakened by cancer and treatment, struggled to process the smoke she had inhaled and the shock she had endured.
“Blood pressure dropping!” a nurse called out. “Oxygen levels at 84 percent.”
“Push another milligram of epinephrine,” the doctor ordered. “And get me her full medical records. Now!”
Victoria heard their voices as though from a great distance. She tried to speak, to ask about Camille, but no sound emerged. Her body felt disconnected, floating, drifting away from the pain and noise of the emergency room.
Somewhere deep in her mind, Victoria knew this might be the end. Not the dignified, prepared death she had planned, but a chaotic scramble in an emergency room, surrounded by strangers.
She had told Camille there would be time. Time for proper goodbyes. Time for final instructions. Time for one last moment together.
.
.
.