Caught in her web of self-preservation, Julianna finally makes a call. "Don't touch her!" she commands the room. "If we move her, we could make it worse!"
The wealthy socialites hovering nearby murmur in agreement, but panic still thickens the air.
"But she's having a seizure! Is it a stroke? If we just leave her like this, she could die!"
"Julianna, you work in medical research! Don't you know any first aid? Do something!" one of the older women pleads.
Julianna bites her lip, thoroughly annoyed by the pressure. Just as she calculates her next excuse, a calm, authoritative voice cuts through the hysteria.
"You cannot just leave her on her back while she is seizing. Her face is spasming, and her airway is at risk. This is extremely dangerous."
Tara steps through the crowd, moving with clinical precision. She drops to her knees right in front of Julianna and immediately presses her fingers to Lindsay’s pulse point.



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