I sensed something was wrong the moment I stepped into the living room. Mrs. Dubois sat in her usual armchair, but her face was ashen, her breathing labored. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her blouse near her chest.
"Mrs. Dubois?" I hurried to her side, kneeling before her. "Are you alright?"
She tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "Elara, I—"
Her words cut off abruptly as her body seized. Blood spattered from her lips onto my blouse. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed forward into my arms.
"Mrs. Dubois!" I screamed, panic flooding my system. "Help! Somebody help!"
Footsteps thundered down the hallway. Mr. Dubois burst into the room, his face draining of color when he saw his wife unconscious in my arms.
"Beatrice!" He rushed over, pulling her from me. "What happened? What did you do?"
"Nothing! She was talking and then she just—"
"Call an ambulance!" he barked at the maid who had appeared in the doorway.
