He lied as effortlessly as he breathed. He lived by lies. He had constructed his entire reality around them.
I looked down at the thick plastic tube running into my twelve-year-old daughter’s throat.
“Who’s the potential client, Grant?” I asked, my voice turning into pure, absolute, glacial ice. “Is it the blonde in the red bikini standing on the bow of my boat? Or did you buy that eighteen-thousand-dollar diamond bracelet at the jeweler’s this afternoon for yourself?”
The silence on the other end became absolute, terrifying, and heavy with guilt. His image as a powerful executive collapsed into countless irreparable pieces.
“Evie…” Grant stammered, his voice cracking as it rose into a pathetic, high-pitched whimper. “I… I can explain. It’s not what it looks like. We were just… it was a networking event…”
PART 3
“A networking event?” I asked quietly. “Is that what you call leaving your twelve-year-old daughter on the floor of our house to choke to death while you took my yacht out to party?”
Silence. Complete, suffocating silence.
“Evelyn… what are you talking about?” Grant’s voice shook, genuine panic finally entering his words. “Chloe is fine. She was at home with Rosa—”
“Rosa was the one who found her,” I cut in, my voice perfectly calm. “She found Chloe lying on the kitchen floor, suffocating because her airway completely closed up from an anaphylactic shock. You promised her you’d take her out for lunch. Instead, you walked out the door at eleven to catch a flight to Miami with your mistress, leaving a sick child completely alone.”
