A paramedic pressed two fingers against Alejandro’s neck.
Five seconds passed.
Then ten.
Daniel stopped breathing.
The paramedic shifted his fingers and leaned closer.
“I have a pulse.”
The corridor erupted.
The second paramedic pulled away the funeral cloth and began attaching monitor leads.
Another opened Alejandro’s airway and placed a ventilation mask over his face.
A faint green line crawled across the monitor.
It rose.
It fell.
Then it rose again.
“Pulse is extremely weak,” the paramedic said.
“Respirations are almost absent.
We need to ventilate now.”
Daniel gripped the side of the coffin as the paramedics lifted his brother onto a stretcher.
“Alejandro, I’m here,” he said.
“You’re not alone.”
Alejandro could not answer, but a tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
The paramedic saw it.
“He’s conscious.”
Sophia backed into the wall.
Morris closed his eyes.
The officers separated them immediately.
As Alejandro was rushed toward the ambulance, Sophia called after Daniel.
“This is a misunderstanding! Thomas said the medicine was for Alejandro’s heart.
I never knew—”
Morris turned on her with sudden fury.
“You wrote the note.”
The corridor fell silent again.
Sophia stared at him.
The careful alliance between them had lasted until the first sign of failure.
Now each seemed desperate to survive by sacrificing the other.
The ambulance carried Alejandro to the nearest trauma center under police escort.
Doctors inserted a breathing tube and placed him on a ventilator while toxicology specialists analyzed residue from the vial Daniel had found.
The initial results showed a powerful neuromuscular blocking drug combined with a second compound that had slowed Alejandro’s heart and lowered his blood pressure to nearly undetectable levels.
The paralytic had stopped him from moving or breathing normally.
It had not made him unconscious.
Alejandro had heard everything.
He had heard the prayers, the condolences, Sophia’s laughter, and Morris describing the cremation as if they were discussing a business appointment.
For the next eighteen hours, he remained unable to speak.
The medical team supported his breathing and monitored his heart while the drugs gradually cleared from his system.
Daniel stayed beside the bed.
Shortly after midnight, Alejandro’s right index finger moved.
Daniel leaned forward.
“Do that again.”
The finger lifted a fraction of an inch.
Daniel covered his mouth and looked away, overwhelmed by relief.
A nurse brought in a communication board.
Alejandro could not yet form words, but he could blink once for yes and twice for no.
“Did Sophia give you the coffee?” Daniel asked.
One blink.
“Was Morris involved?”
One blink.
