After the Storm

The sky had brightened, and the post-storm air was refreshingly cool. Soon after, the light outside Avery Miller's operating room finally went out.

"Madam, how are you feeling?" It wasn't long before Avery Miller's eyes moved slightly, though she couldn't fully open them.

Eleanor Thompson watched with immense surprise and joy, bending low beside her bed with a look of earnest, anxious delight, keeping her voice as soft as possible.

She had visited the young master earlier that morning; he was still unconscious, but the doctor had assured there was no serious harm. If the stab had been a fraction deeper, a mere inch further, he might not have been saved.

Hearing this, Eleanor Thompson felt a chill of fear, and those around her murmured in dismay.