ELENA POV
Three months.
Ninety-two days of sitting in that hospital room, watching machines breathe for my mother, waiting for her to wake up.
Ninety-two days of doctors saying "any day now" and "these things take time" and "we just have to be patient."
Ninety-two days of my life were suspended in limbo while Brighton continued his presidential campaign, while the evidence sat encrypted on a flash drive we couldn't use, while the world moved on without us.
We'd moved my mom twice, first to a private clinic outside Prague when the hospital felt too exposed, then to a facility in the countryside when even the clinic felt compromised. Each move orchestrated by Damien's contacts, each location kept secret from everyone except the three of us.
