Chapter 2 - A Race Against Time
The ride in the back of the massive black limousine was a complete blur of anxiety and confusion.
Annie gripped my arm so tightly her fingernails dug into my skin, but I didn't care.
The entire city rushed by in a stream of neon lights and dark shadows.
When we finally pulled up to our crumbling apartment building, Dr. Evans practically sprinted up the stairs.
We burst through the flimsy door to find Grace exactly where I left her, trembling violently beneath a thin, moth-eaten blanket.
Her skin was pale, covered in a terrible sheen of cold sweat.
The doctor immediately pushed past me, opening his bag and preparing a syringe with practiced speed.
Arthur stood in the doorway, his massive frame looking entirely out of place in our tiny, broken-down home.
I watched in terrified silence as Dr. Evans worked, checking Grace’s vitals and administering the medicine.
"She's dangerously dehydrated and fighting a severe pathogen," Dr. Evans said, wiping his brow.
"But we caught it just in time, Mr. Whitmore."
Arthur let out a long, shuddering breath and leaned against the doorframe.
He walked slowly over to the small, cracked dresser where a framed photograph of our parents sat.
He picked it up with trembling hands.
"Thomas," Arthur whispered, staring at my father’s smiling face.
I walked up beside the old man, my anger slowly being replaced by a desperate curiosity.
"Why are you looking at my dad like that?" I asked.
Arthur placed the frame down gently and looked at me.
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"Because, Caleb, your father didn't just work for me."
"He saved my life, and it ended up costing him his own."
