Ethan had no idea what had suddenly gone wrong with Marcus, but sitting inside the doctor's office made his chest feel unbearably tight.
The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and polished wood, a sterile calm that only made his anxiety worse. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second stretching painfully.
The doctor had said Marcus was stable for now.
But he also said he needed to run several tests.
That sentence kept repeating in Ethan's mind like an echo that refused to fade.
His heart pounded relentlessly as memories of Katherine's voice replayed in his head.
"Your father fainted in the restaurant."
The image of Marcus collapsing in public twisted something deep inside him.
Ethan knew his father well enough to understand one thing—Marcus Emerson never showed weakness. If he had fainted, then whatever was happening had to be serious.
Very serious.
Yet Marcus had been strangely stubborn about hiding it.
