Driven Point of View
Driven sat at the kitchen table, the morning air thick with the rich aroma of sizzling bacon, buttery toast, and freshly brewed coffee. Across from him, Michaela sat in her high chair, happily munching on her breakfast and completely minding her own business.
Driven’s eyes drifted to his daughter, and his chest tightened.
Her lips still held that same unsettling, bluish-purple tint, and as he watched her closely, he noticed her small chest moving up and down much too fast for a toddler. His stomach did a sickening flip.
He looked across the table at Briar. "I made an appointment for Michaela at her cardiologist this morning," he said, his voice heavy.
Briar’s expression instantly turned serious. Her eyes shot over to Michaela, who was still eating peacefully, obl
