Rain lashed against the tall, leaded glass windows behind the desk.

To my left, near the bookshelf, sat a small rolling metal cart.

A black leather medical bag lay open on top of it.

I saw glass vials, gauze rolls, and the silver glint of instruments inside the velvet lining.

My mind raced back to my lectures on trauma care and sterile fields.

I could smell the metallic odor of old blood and the sharp tang of antiseptic coming from Dominic.

He was going into septic shock.

If his wound wasn’t cleaned and drained soon, he would be dead before morning.

“He’s burning up,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“Let me look at him.”

“No,” Leo said.

“I am a nurse, Leo,” I said, stepping closer to the cart.

“Or at least, I was trained to be one.”

“If he dies before these papers are filed and notarized, your board of directors won’t accept them.”

“You need him alive to verify the transfer of the estate.”

Leo narrowed his eyes, looking from me to his brother.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, calculating the risks.