"Is she breathing?"
Naomi's voice came out sharper than she meant it to, cutting through the chaos at the front gate where security guards were already pushing back a cluster of reporters with raised phones.
"She's breathing," one of the paramedics called back, kneeling beside Corinne's still form. "Fainted, looks like. Pulse is steady."
Relief hit Naomi so hard her knees nearly buckled, an echo of the day she'd sat on the curb outside her father's funeral in a dress not so different from tonight's.
Julian was already crouched beside the stretcher, his voice low, urgent. "Corinne. Can you hear me?"
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then sharpening when they found his face. "The letter," she whispered. "In my bag. I brought it tonight. I was going to give it to you myself."
