The Glass Pavilion
The private fourth floor of the Northside Medical Pavilion was completely isolated from public access.
Emma was immediately placed in a specialized pulmonary intensive care suite, connected to high-flow oxygen, IV broad-spectrum antibiotics for severe double pneumonia, and a central line for controlled refeeding therapy.
In the adjoining pediatric observation room, Sophia sat propped up on clean white cotton sheets. She had been bathed, her hair washed and brushed smooth, wearing a soft flannel pajama set. On the bedside table sat a tray of warm chicken broth, steamed rice, and fresh fruit.
Alexander sat in a chair beside Sophia’s bed, holding her small hand. Dr. Hayes, an elderly physician who had served the Vance family for thirty years, stepped into the room with a set of lab charts, his expression grim.
"How are they, Marcus?" Alexander asked, his voice low.
"Sophia is severely malnourished, displaying stage-two vitamin deficiencies and early bone-density loss from lack of sunlight," Dr. Hayes reported, adjusting his glasses. "However, children are remarkably resilient. With proper clinical nutrition and respiratory monitoring, she will make a full physical recovery within three months."
"And Emma?"
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Dr. Hayes sighed heavily. "Her pneumonia is advanced, complicated by long-term exposure to Stachybotrys—black mold. Her lungs are badly inflamed, and she has severe gastrointestinal ulcers from starvation. If you had found them forty-eight hours later, Alexander... her heart would have given out from septic shock."
Alexander gripped the edge of the mattress until his knuckles went white. "Save her, Marcus. Whatever specialist, whatever medication, whatever experimental therapy is needed on this earth. Bring it here."
