DANIEL
The clinic doors barely closed behind us before a nurse in crisp blue scrubs approached, her expression calm and professional. “Mr. Harrington?”
I nodded quickly, heart still hammering from the frantic drive.
“How is she?”
“The surgery is already in progress,” the nurse said gently, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “The best team is working on her—our top vascular and reconstructive specialists. She’s in excellent hands. Try to breathe. She’ll be just fine.”
Emma stood beside me, tears already spilling fresh down her cheeks. I thanked the nurse, but the words felt hollow. We were led to a quiet waiting area with soft lighting and uncomfortable chairs that smelled faintly of antiseptic. I couldn’t sit. My legs carried me back and forth across the polished floor, each step ec
