The sterile white light of the hospital ward flickered faintly above Genevieve Laurent's bed, casting long shadows across the floor. She reclined on the adjustable hospital bed, a pale blue sheet drawn neatly over her legs, a faint chill clinging to her skin despite the warm layers. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoed like a metronome in the quiet space, broken only by the soft tapping of her manicured nails against the surface of her tablet.
Her assistant, an old woman with chestnut hair pulled into a tight bun, sat by her side, flipping through a medical journal but keeping one wary eye on her boss. Genevieve's face was a mask of poise, but her fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled through company updates.
The ward door creaked open.
Genevieve looked up, her heart sinking to her stomach.
