Timothy knelt, trying to see under the bed, but it was too dark. Lowering his head sent a jolt of pain through him.


    "Mabel!" he called out.


    Mabel hurried in. "Yes, sir?"


    "Get a few of the staff in here. We need to move the bed. I dropped something underneath."


    "Of course."


    She returned momentster with four male servants. They quickly shifted therge bed to one side, revealing the lost ring and a piece of paper lying on the floor. Timothy bent down and picked up the ring.


    His eyes then fell on the paper. He frowned, a flicker of memory surfacing. The day Jessica first left him, he''de into the bedroom and noticed a slip of paper sticking out from under the bed. He''d asked Mabel to clean the room then.


    "Mabel," he asked, "that day I told you to clean in here, did you not see this paper under the bed?"


    "No, sir. The room was very tidy when I came in, but I cleaned it thoroughly anyway. It must have slid too far under for me to see."


    Mabel walked toward the paper, intending to throw it away. "Mrs. Lawson is always so meticulous about cleanliness,” she murmured. "She would never just toss paper under the bed. Perhaps it''s an important document she lost and never realized?"


    Her words caught Timothy''s attention. He moved faster, bending down to pick up the paper himself. It was folded, and when he turned it over, the words printed on it came into view.


    In an instant, his eyes widened. His fingertips began to tremble.


    *Diagnosis: Terminal Liver Cancer.*


    The patient''s name was printed clearly: *Jessica Greene.*


    Fearing he was hallucinating, Timothy squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and looked again.


    *Jessica. Terminal Liver Cancer.*


    It was no mistake. The detailed results were all there. His gaze shot to the date on


    the report.


    Four months ago.


    The day of Henry''s parent-teacher day at school. The day he had finally decided to publicly acknowledge her as his wife. The day he had brought She Howard home and dessica had been so upset.


    Suddenly, the strength drained from his legs. He staggered, nearly copsing before Mabel caught him.


    "Sir, what''s wrong?"


    Timothy''s face was ashen, his lips turning a deathly shade of blue.


    Mabel panicked. "Are you having an attack? I''ll take you to the hospital.”


    Timothy clutched his chest, and a mouthful of blood erupted from his lips, sttering across the damning report in his hand.


    Mabel screamed. "Someone, call an ambnce! Now!"


    She struggled to support his weight as another servant rushed to help, guiding him to the sofa. Timothy


    Stumped against the cushions, hi


    body rigid, his hand still crushing the cancer diagnosis. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his pupils barely moving.


    Mabel returned with a damp cloth. "Sir, let me wipe your face."


    He didn''t move. Not a muscle.


    "Sir...?" she called out again, her voice trembling. Still no response.


    Then, abruptly, he shot to his feet. "Get the car! We''re going to the Zimmermans''!"


    "Sir, you''re vomiting blood! I''ve called an ambnce, you need to go to the hospital!"


    "Get the car! The Zimmermans''! Didn''t you hear me?" Timothy''s eyes


    were so bloodshot they looked


    they might burst


    Mabel scrambled to call the driver. Timothy, clutching his chest, stumbled out of the


    house, his steps unsteady and weak.