What Can't Be Done?

Damien Sterling paced back and forth, his mind wrestling with incredulity. 

Did this woman truly believe she was invincible, needing neither rest nor sustenance day after day?

Returning to the couch, Damien massaged his temples gently. 

A headache, sharp and unyielding, throbbed within his skull, a rare sensation for a man who seldom found himself at a loss for solutions.

A sudden thought seemed to strike him; his eyebrows arched, and a slight smile played on his lips. "Mrs. Harris, prepare some food, and make it substantial."

Mrs. Harris, puzzled by Damien's request, wondered silently. "Who is the meal for, sir?"

"Emma Hart," Damien stated firmly, his dark eyes inscrutable, leaving everyone around him unable to fathom his latest plan.

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Harris acquiesced.

Upstairs.