—Get a doctor. Right now.
The guests erupted in a frenzy. A doctor who had been attending the service pushed his way through and checked for himself. His eyes widened in shock.
—She has a heartbeat. Weak, but present. We must take her to a hospital immediately.
As the paramedics lifted Talia from the coffin and hurriedly carried her out, Preston turned to the boy. Jace looked ready to be dragged away by the guards.
—You’re coming with me—Preston said.
Jace tensed up.
—I didn’t do anything wrong.
—You came because you care. That’s enough.
They followed the stretcher to the ambulance and then to the hospital. Hours passed. Preston paced back and forth in the corridor. Jace remained silent, his hands clasped together, as if trying not to intrude on the grief of a wealthy man. Finally, a doctor in a white coat approached.
“She’s stable now,” he reported. “Your daughter was put into a medically induced coma. Her vital signs were misinterpreted. This boy kept her alive by speaking up.”
