Chapter 7 - The Ice and the Fire
The guards rushed back into the room seconds later, dumping a heavy silver bucket of crushed ice directly onto the Persian rug.
Emily didn't hesitate. She rapidly packed the freezing ice around Noah’s tiny torso and the back of his neck, rapidly dropping his core temperature to freeze the synthetic toxin in his bloodstream. The baby’s skin was incredibly pale, his tiny chest completely still.
"Come on, Noah," Emily whispered, her voice fierce and completely focused.
She placed two fingers perfectly over the lower half of the infant's sternum. With precise, mechanical perfection, she began chest compressions. One, two, three, four...
The silence in the opulent American mansion was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, heavy thud of Emily's fingers against the baby's chest. She didn't perform the frantic, chaotic CPR seen in movies. She used subtle, natural movements, her breathing highly controlled, ensuring perfect blood circulation to his brain.
Michael watched in breathless awe. His gun was still aimed at the medic, but his dark, tear-filled eyes were completely captivated by the quiet maid who was currently waging a war against death on his living room floor.
A minute passed. Nothing.
Two minutes passed. The cardiac monitor remained entirely silent.
"Emily..." Michael choked out, the devastating despair threatening to pull him under again.
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"Quiet!" Emily snapped, her jaw clenched, her dark hair falling loose from her messy bun as she continued the compressions without slowing down for a single millisecond. "He is fighting. I can feel him fighting."
👉 The room was suffocating under the weight of failure, until a tiny, impossible sound shattered the silence.
