“Dad… Elsie won’t wake up right.” His voice cracked. “She keeps sleeping and she feels really hot. Mom isn’t here. We don’t have anything left to eat.”
The conference room, the spreadsheets, the million-dollar projections—they instantly vaporized. The universe shrank to the dimensions of that phone speaker. I shoved my chair backward so violently it crashed into the wall. A coworker jumped, eyes wide, but I offered no explanation. I didn’t apologize. I didn’t grab my coat. I snatched my car keys and sprinted for the glass doors.
While sprinting down the corridor toward the elevator, I dialed Delaney.
Straight to voicemail.
I slammed my palm against the elevator button and called again.
Voicemail.
A cold, metallic dread began to coat the back of my throat. By the time I reached the concrete belly of the parking garage, my pulse was hammering against my ribs with the force of a trapped bird. My hands shook so badly I scratched the door of my sedan trying to get the key in.
