She knocked again, panic creeping into her voice. “Please open the door,” she pleaded. “Ever since you came back from the courthouse, you haven’t opened the door. It’s been two days. Please, come out.”
No response.
Neil arrived moments later. After hearing what had happened at the courthouse, his face darkened with worry.
“I know their marriage was bad,” he said slowly, “but ever since Mia left… he’s completely lost his mind.”
Mrs. Maisel nodded anxiously. “He hasn’t opened the door for two days.”
Neil’s heart sank.
“This isn’t good,” he muttered. “He wouldn’t… do something to himself, would he?”
Mrs. Maisel gasped, fear flooding her face.
Neil’s eyes darted around the room—until they landed on a heavy metal statue resting against the wall.
He grabbed it.
“Step back,” he ordered.
He struck the doorknob again and again, his breaths harsh and frantic. The door resisted—then finally, the lock snapped and fell apart.
Neil threw the door open and rushed inside.
“James!”
No answer.
He rushed inside—and froze.
James lay unconscious on the floor. His shirt was gone—he was only wearing the same suit pants he had worn two days ago. His skin looked pale, lifeless.
Neil knelt beside him quickly.
There was no smell of alcohol.
Which meant—he hadn’t passed out drunk.
Neil rushed to James’s side at once.
“James—James, wake up!” He shook his shoulder hard.
There was no response.
“Shit,” Neil cursed under his breath. He looked up sharply at Mrs. Maisel. “Call a doctor. Now. I’ll get him onto the bed.”
“Yes—yes, right away!” Mrs. Maisel said, panic flooding her face as she rushed out of the room.
An hour later, a doctor stood beside the bed. He removed the stethoscope from James’s chest and let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Mr. Sinclair suffered a cardiac arrest,” the doctor said gravely. “If help had arrived even a little later… he might not have survived.”
Mrs. Maisel gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
Neil swore sharply, his heart pounding violently at the thought. He raked a hand through his hair, pacing once before forcing himself to stop.
Five hours later, James finally stirred. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dull.
