Ruby’s POV
The siren was a deafening, relentless shriek that tore the Friday night apart. Flashing red and blue lights sliced through the darkness of the Bells’ estate, casting eerie, violent shadows against the pristine white walls of the mansion.
It was 11:00 PM.
"Step back, ma'am! Give them room!" a paramedic shouted, but his voice sounded like it was underwater.
I couldn’t move. I couldn't breathe. The stretcher was wheeled past me in a blur, and on it lay my father. Benedict Bell. The man who called me his queen. He was bleeding—so much blood, a horrific, gushing crimson stream that wouldn't stop pouring from the jagged stab wound in his side. It soaked through his clothes, stained the white sheets of the gurney, and dripped onto the gravel driveway.
"Dad... Dad, please," I
