The clinic was packed when Mrs. Alvarez called, voice hushed but urgent.
“Charlotte, I need you to come to the house. It's my husband—he's dizzy, seeing double."
“Can he stand?" Charlotte asked, already packing her bag.
“Yes, but… just come."
---
The Alvarez house was all marble floors and echoing hallways. Charlotte set her bag on the kitchen island.
“Sit him down," she told Mrs. Alvarez, kneeling beside the armchair where a broad-shouldered man blinked slowly at her.
“When did this start?"
“This morning," Mrs. Alvarez said. “He skipped breakfast, but—"
“Blood pressure's low," Charlotte murmured, cuff on his arm. “We'll get you hydrated, then check for arrhythmia."
Mrs. Alvarez nodded. “Anything you need."
Charlotte reached for her stethoscope—just as footsteps echoed from the
