For a moment Sophie froze, the color draining from her face. Then she moved, fast, dropping to her knees beside Damian as if gravity had suddenly changed.
“Mr. Cole?” Her voice cracked. “Sir… Damian?”
The use of his first name startled him. Sophie almost never used it. But this time it escaped her like instinct.
She touched his chest lightly, then pressed trembling fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. Her eyes filled with tears so quickly it seemed her body had been waiting for permission to break.
“Please,” she whispered, leaning closer. “Please not now.”
A tear fell onto Damian’s cheek. Warm. Real.
His stomach tightened with guilt, but he remained still because he had committed to the lie and his pride refused to let him stop.
Sophie fumbled for her phone and called 911, her hands shaking so badly she hit the wrong numbers twice. When the dispatcher answered, Sophie gave the address clearly but sounded like she was holding herself together with threads.
She checked for breathing, her face close to Damian’s mouth, eyes wide with terror. When she couldn’t feel enough air, her expression crumpled.
“Begin CPR,” the dispatcher instructed.
Sophie hesitated only a fraction of a second. Then she placed her hands on Damian’s chest and began compressions, counting softly through tears.
“One… two… three…”
Between counts, she spoke to him as if her voice could tether him to life.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “Don’t you leave. Not like this.”
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