Chapter 153 The red button

Chapter 153 The red button
~ALEXANDER'S POV~

The line clicked.

It wasn't the slow, fading beep of a call going to voicemail because the person was away from their phone. It was quick, Intentional.

She hit decline.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the dark screen. The penthouse was dead quiet, save for the low buzz of the city traffic twenty floors below.

"Did she answer, sir?" Ilynos asked from his post by the front door.

"No," I said, my voice dangerously low. "She declined the call."

Ilynos crossed his arms, his posture shifting into alert mode. "Ms. Winfred just had a highly emotional confrontation at the hospital. Perhaps she simply wants to be alone."

"Claire doesn't shut me out when she's hurting," I said, tossing the phone onto the kitchen island. It slid across the marble with a harsh scraping sound. 

"She yells. She fights. She throws things. She doesn't just hit the red button."

"She brushed past us in the hallway," Ilynos reminded me cautiously.

"Because she was holding back tears," I shot back, pacing the length of the living room. My chest ached where the stitches pulled, but I ignored it. "She wanted to get out of that hospital before she broke down. I gave her space to drive off her anger. I gave her an hour."

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The New York skyline glittered back at me, vast and full of places for her to hide.

"Something is wrong," I muttered.

"Do you believe she is in danger?"

"With the Blackwoods involved? She is always in danger."

I ran a hand over my jaw, my mind racing. Eleanor had been at the hospital. She had threatened to expose my past. She had planted a seed of doubt in Claire's head, and I knew it was rotting.

"What if Eleanor sent David after her?" I asked aloud.

"David Blackwood is currently under surveillance, sir. He is at his apartment."

"And Richard?"

"His tracker shows he left the Blackwood estate an hour ago. He parked near the East River."

My blood turned to ice.

"The East River," I repeated.

"Yes, sir. There is a small park there."

I closed my eyes. I knew that park. Claire had mentioned it once, late at night when we were lying in bed. She said it was the place she used to go to cry when Richard ignored her. A place to feel sorry for herself.

Why would Richard be there today?

Unless he knew her habits. Unless he knew exactly where a broken, emotionally exhausted Claire would go to hide.

"She declined my call," I said, the pieces snapping together into an ugly, terrifying picture. "She declined my call while she was sitting in the same park as her ex-husband."

"It could be a coincidence," Ilynos offered.

"I don't believe in coincidences," I snapped, turning away from the window. "Not when it comes to the mother of my child."

My heart beat violently against my ribs.

Claire was smart. She was a survivor. But she was also vulnerable right now. She had just cut ties with her mother. She was emotionally bleeding, and Richard was a vulture who specialized in picking at her wounds.

And if Richard decided to use the one weapon I couldn't protect her from—my own past?

"She wouldn't just listen to him," I muttered, trying to convince myself. "She hates him."

"People listen when they want answers, sir," Ilynos said quietly.

I looked at my security chief. He was right. Claire was desperate for the truth, and I had refused to give it to her. I had lied to her face in the hospital to protect her.

If Richard offered her the secrets I had kept buried, she wouldn't walk away. She would sit down and listen.

And that was how I would lose her.

I snatched my car keys off the counter. The protective instincts I had been trying to keep on a leash completely snapped. I didn't care about giving her space anymore. I didn't care about boundaries.

I only cared about getting to her before Richard poisoned her against me forever.

"Ilynos," I ordered, heading straight for the private elevator.

"Sir?"

"Track her phone. Right now."



~ANNETTE'S POV~

Hiss. Click. Beep.

The ventilator did all the work. It pushed air into my father's lungs and pulled it back out. He just lay there, perfectly still, looking smaller than he ever had in his expensive suits.

"He has slipped into a coma," the doctor had told me ten minutes ago, his face completely serious. "Given the severity of the head trauma from the fall, we don't know when, or if, he will wake up."

I waited until the doctor left the room.

Then, I put my hands over my face. And I laughed.

It started as a giggle and bubbled up into a full, chest-heaving laugh. I had to grip the plastic railing of his hospital bed just to keep myself upright.

A coma. It was perfect.

I looked down at the man who had treated me like dirt my entire life. He wasn't dead, which meant Sterling Corps wasn't locked up in probate. But he wasn't awake to stop me, either.

Even better? I held the leash on the two most dangerous men in New York. Richard and David Blackwood thought they were masterminds. 

But I was the only one who knew they had nearly beaten a man to death in his own living room. One word from me, and they were both wearing orange jumpsuits.

I was untouchable.

Well, almost.

Running into Claire and Alexander in the hallway earlier had been a nasty shock. I had played the weeping daughter perfectly, grabbing Claire for a hug. I actually enjoyed the hug. But Alexander? The man had looked at me like he wanted to snap my spine in half.

I shuddered, remembering the mere violence in his green eyes. I'd have to tread very carefully around Alexander Hayes.

BZZZZT.

I jumped. The sound came from the plastic belongings bag sitting on the visitor's chair.

My father's personal cell phone.

I reached into the bag and pulled it out. The screen flashed with an unknown number.

I swiped answer and lifted it to my ear. I didn't say a word.

"Dad?" a voice hissed through the line. "Dad, pick up. It's me."

I smiled. A slow, deeply satisfying smile.

"Hello, sister," I said smoothly. "Long time no see."

There was dead silence on the other end. I could practically hear the panic setting in. "Annette?" Monica's voice was sharp, brittle. "What the hell are you doing with Dad's phone?"

"Answering it," I said, leaning casually against my father's life support machine. "Since he's a bit tied up right now."

"Put him on the phone. Now."

"I can't do that, Mon."

"I am not playing games with you, Annette! Give him the phone!"

"I literally can't," I said, inspecting my fingernails. "He has a plastic tube shoved down his throat. He had a terrible fall, you see. Hit his head. He's in a coma."

Monica let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Do you think I'm stupid? A fall? Dad doesn't fall. You're lying. You're trying to keep him from helping me."

"I don't know, and honestly? I don't care," I said. "Believe whatever you want. But he can't come to the phone. He won't be funding your little fugitive lifestyle anymore."

"Annette, I swear to God—"

"Anyway," I cut her off cheerfully. "If you don't have anything else to say, happy hiding. Try not to get arrested." I pulled the phone away from my ear, hovering my thumb over the red button.

"Wait!"

Her scream was so loud I heard it without the speakerphone.

I brought the phone back to my ear. "Yes?"

"Wait," Monica breathed. The sharpness was gone. The arrogance was completely wiped away. She sounded like a cornered rat. I smirked, staring down at my father's comatose face. 

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

"I'm listening," I whispered.

"I need your help, Annette," Monica pleaded, her voice cracking into a sob. "I have no money. I have nowhere to go. Please... please help me."