The front door downstairs creaked open, followed by the sound of muffled voices in the foyer.

Heavy, quick footsteps began to ascend the grand staircase.

A moment later, Dr. Elaine Voss entered the room, carrying a black leather medical bag.

Her coat was wet from the rain, and her gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

She did not look at any of us as she walked straight to Alexander’s bedside.

“How long has he been like this?” Dr. Voss asked, dropping her bag onto the chair.

“Nearly an hour,” Sofia said, rushing to the other side of the bed. “His breathing got shallow right after he drank his water.”

Dr. Voss opened her bag and pulled out a stethoscope.

She pressed the cold metal to Alexander’s chest, her eyes staring blankly at the wall as she listened.

The room was so quiet I could hear the drip of the rain from the eaves outside.

“His heart rate is dangerously low,” Dr. Voss said, pulling the stethoscope from her ears. “His pupils are dilated.”

She picked up the empty medicine bottle from the bed and sniffed the rim.