I rushed toward the Dubois mansion, my heart pounding with anticipation. After years of questions and pain, I was finally about to confirm what I'd suspected—that Beatrice Hayes was my real mother.
The front door was slightly ajar when I arrived. Strange. I pushed it open cautiously.
"Mrs. Dubois?" I called out.
A crash from the living room answered me. I sprinted inside to find Mrs. Dubois frantically trying to help Alistair, who was slumped against the wall, blood seeping through his shirt.
"Elara, thank goodness!" Mrs. Dubois looked up, her eyes wide with panic. "Alistair fell and hit the corner of the table. We need to get him to the hospital!"
I rushed to their side. Alistair's face was alarmingly pale, his breathing shallow. A deep gash on his forehead was bleeding profusely.
"My car's outside. I'll drive," I said, helping Mrs. Dubois get Alistair to his feet.
