Teardrops splashed onto Michael Ashworth's pale hand as Isabelle clutched it desperately. Her shoulders trembled with each silent sob. I stood behind her, feeling utterly helpless as the family doctor shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Ashworth. We've done everything possible." The doctor's voice was solemn. "His condition has deteriorated beyond our ability to treat. It's only a matter of time now."
Isabelle's quiet whimpers tore at my heart. The bedroom felt suffocating—filled with Ashworth family members whose expressions ranged from genuine grief to calculated indifference.
Corbin stepped forward, his face a perfect mask of sorrow. "How could this happen so suddenly? He was fine earlier today."
The doctor adjusted his glasses. "His organs are shutting down. It appears he's been hiding his condition for months."
Corbin's eyes darted to me, narrowing with accusation. "It's rather coincidental that his collapse occurred immediately after being alone with an outsider."
