Chapter 112
Morning light streamed through Victoria’s office windows, turning the silver in her hair to platinum. She stood at the head of the conference table, reviewing the Phoenix Grid’s reports.
“Power distribution remains stable,” she noted, flipping through papers with practiced efficiency. “No anomalies detected overnight.”
Camille watched from across the table, noticing something off about Victoria. Her normally flawless complexion had a grayish tinge, and faint shadows underlined her eyes.
“Are you feeling alright?” Camille asked quietly while Alexander studied technical readouts beside her.
Victoria dismissed the question with a sharp wave. “I’m fine. Let’s focus on Section B. The activation is scheduled for noon.” Alexander glanced up. “My security team reports no suspicious activity. If Rose and Herod are planning something, they’re being extraordinarily careful.”
Victoria nodded, but the movement seemed to throw her off balance momentarily. She steadied herself against the table so quickly that Camille wondered if she’d imagined it.
“Hannah’s team has implemented additional safeguards,” Victoria continued, her voice slightly thinner than usual. “Any attempt to interfere with the Grid’s operation will trigger immediate…”
She stopped mid–sentence, her hand going to her temple.
“Victoria?” Camille half–rose from her chair.
“As I was saying,” Victoria pushed on, her words more deliberate now, “any attempt to interfere will trigger immediate… immediate…”
The pen slipped from her fingers, clattering against the polished table. Victoria stared at it with mild surprise, as if she couldn’t quite understand what had happened.
“I think perhaps I should…” she murmured, and then her legs simply gave way.
Alexander moved with startling speed, catching Victoria before she hit the floor. Her body went limp in his arms, her head rolling back unnaturally.
“Victoria!” Camille rushed around the table, dropping to her knees beside them. “Victoria, can you hear me?”
Victoria’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered, the admission seeming to cost her terribly.
Alexander already had his phone out, barking orders for medical assistance. Camille pressed her fingers to Victoria’s wrist, feeling the rapid, fluttering pulse.
“Stay with us,” she urged, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Help is coming.”
Victoria’s hand found Camille’s, her grip surprisingly strong. “The Grid,” she managed. “Don’t let them….”
Her eyes rolled back, and her body went rigid before beginning to seize.
“Turn her on her side,” Alexander commanded. “Keep her airways clear.”
The next minutes blurred together. Security personnel burst into the room, followed by a medical team. They pushed Camille and Alexander back, surrounding Victoria with efficient professionalism.
Camille watched, frozen, as they stabilized Victoria and transferred her to a stretcher. The woman who had saved her, shaped her, made her invincible, suddenly human and fragile, her face half–covered by an oxygen mask.
“I’m going with her,” Camille said, already moving toward the door.
Alexander caught her arm. “The helicopter is ready on the roof. It’ll get her to the hospital faster than fighting through city traffic.”
Camille nodded mechanically, following the medical team as they rushed Victoria toward the private elevator. Her mind raced with contradictory thoughts, worry for Victoria warring with concerns about the Grid activation, scheduled in just three hours.
“Go with her,” Alexander said, reading her expression. “I’ll handle Section B and make sure everything proceeds according to plan.”
Camille hesitated, torn between responsibilities. “Rose and Herod…”
“Will still be waiting when Victoria’s stable,” Alexander finished. “She needs you now. Go.”
The elevator doors closed. Camille turned to the stretcher where Victoria lay. She had never seen her mentor look small
before. Even in sleep, Victoria had always maintained a formidable presence. Now, her skin seemed nearly translucent, the
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Chapter 112
veins at her temples standing out starkly.
One of the medics checked Victoria’s vital signs. “How long has she been ill?” he asked,
“She isn’t ill,” Camille replied automatically. “She’s never sick.”
The medic exchanged a glance with his colleague that sent ice through Camille’s veins.
The hospital waiting room smelled of antiseptic and stale coffee. Camille paced its length for what felt like the hundredth time. Three hours had passed since they’d rushed Victoria through the double doors marked “Authorized Personnel Only”
Her phone buzzed. Alexander. Section B had gone online without incident, exactly as planned. No sign of interference from Rose or Herod. Camille stared at the message, unable to summon relief or satisfaction.
The door at the far end opened, and a doctor approached with a carefully neutral expression.
“Ms. Kane? I’m Dr. Elizabeth Chen.”
Camille straightened. “How is she?”
“Stable for now,” Dr. Chen replied. “We’ve run a series of tests, including blood work and advanced imaging. Would you like. to sit down?”
Camille recognized the tone. It was the same one Victoria had used when explaining why there was no possibility of reconciliation with her old family. The prelude to an unbearable truth.
“Just tell me,” Camille said softly.
Dr. Chen met her gaze directly. “Ms. Kane has pancreatic cancer. It’s advanced, but we’ve caught it at a stage where treatment options are still available. With the right approach, there’s a realistic chance of remission.”
The words hung in the air, still devastating but carrying a thread of hope that Camille hadn’t dared expect. She gripped a nearby chair to steady herself.
“Treatment options?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“A specialized surgical procedure followed by targeted immunotherapy,” Dr. Chen explained. “There’s a new clinical trial showing promising results with cases similar to Ms. Kane’s. It won’t be easy, but she’s otherwise in excellent health, which significantly improves her prospects.”
Camille’s mind raced back through the past weeks. Victoria working later than usual. Meals left half–finished. The slight stiffness in her movements that Camille had attributed to tension over Rose and Herod’s plotting.
“What’s the timeline for treatment?” Camille asked, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“We’d want to begin as soon as possible,” Dr. Chen replied. “The surgery could be scheduled within days, followed by recovery and then immunotherapy. The full course would take several months.”
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