The Price of Survival
The boardroom air tasted of ozone and expensive cologne, a sterile vacuum where the only sound was the rhythmic, digital pulse of the portable monitor Elias had rigged. Elena Vance lay across the mahogany table, her breathing a ragged, shallow cadence.
"She’s hemodynamically stable, but the arrhythmia is structural," Elias said, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence. He didn't look at his father, Marcus, who stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, his face a mask of mottled, suppressed fury. Elias kept his focus on the lead paramedic, who hovered at the room’s edge, paralyzed by the con
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