Inside, the living room was small but tidy. Ana lay unconscious on the couch. Victor recognized her from the office hallways: quiet, almost invisible, always looking down. Now she appeared pale and fragile.
The refrigerator stood half open, nearly empty. A pot with leftover rice sat on the stove.
“I tried to cook,” Emma said quietly. “Since lunchtime she said her head hurt… then she stopped talking.”
The ambulance siren pierced the street.
Paramedics rushed inside, checking Ana quickly.
Low blood pressure. Severe dehydration. Anemia. She needed immediate hospitalization.
“Are you family?” one paramedic asked.
Victor hesitated. Saying “I’m her boss” suddenly felt meaningless.
“I’m… her employer,” he said.
Emma grabbed his leg tightly.
“Will you stay with me?” she asked.
Victor felt something break inside him. His life had always been about distance—never getting involved, never allowing anyone to depend on him.
Yet here she was, holding on as if he were the only person she had.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I’ll stay.”
At the hospital, Victor realized that fear wasn’t like losing money. This was something raw and painful.
Emma eventually fell asleep in his lap, exhausted. He held her awkwardly, afraid she might slip away.
Dr. Mitchell approached them.
“She’s stable,” the doctor explained. “But the situation is serious. Malnutrition, severe anemia… and it seems she’s ignored symptoms for weeks.”
Victor felt guilt twist inside his chest.
For him, a few thousand dollars meant nothing. For Ana, survival had become impossible.
“Does she have family?” Victor asked.
“No emergency contacts. Only her workplace,” the doctor replied, looking at him.
On the drive back later, Emma woke in the back seat.
“Do you have food at your house?” she asked softly. “I’m hungry… but I don’t want to bother you.”
Victor glanced at her in the mirror.
“You’re not bothering me,” he said gently. “Not at all.”
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