The rest of the staff were like statues down the hall, waiting for instructions that never arrived.
Her eyes, desperate and wide, seemed to pull me into her world of pain.
I knew I had to act, but fear held me back, rooted to the spot.
What if I did the wrong thing?
The air was thick with the weight of unspoken rules and unseen eyes.
The billionaire’s influence was omnipresent, a shadow that stretched across every corner of our lives.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than a mere accident.
Every second felt stretched, a slow-motion reel of indecision.
The blood pooled around her, a stark reminder of the urgency that I seemed unable to grasp.
“Help me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in my ears.
That soft plea shattered the silence, resonating in the stillness.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the fear.
The choice was clear, but terrifying—help her, or maintain the status quo.
I knew this could change everything.
But doing nothing was no longer an option.
As I reached for my phone, intending to call for help, doubt crept in.
Would anyone come?
Would they care?
My mind raced, replaying the moments leading up to this.
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