In an instant, Harrison just stared at her. The red mark on his cheek bloomed like a flower against his pale skin. Then, a sharp, mocking laugh escaped his lips.
"A performance. Right to the end. Well played."
He straightened his tie. "All right, show's over. I'll have my assistant clear my afternoon schedule. I'm staying with you." His tone was lofty, as if it were a reward he was bestowing upon Chloe.
Chloe didn't argue. She just looked at him. Her fingers moved to the nurse call button by the bed and pressed it.
"Get out."
His face darkened. "Stop this tantrum."
"Get out."
The door opened, and a nurse walked in. "Miss Sinclair, is everything all right here?"
Chloe said to the nurse, "I'd like to check myself out, thank you." With her good arm, she tore the tape off the back of her hand and pulled out the IV needle.
The nurse gasped. "Miss Sinclair, you can't do that! The doctor requires you to stay for at least twenty-four hours of observation. You have a concussion."
Harrison walked toward the bed. "Chloe, stop being ridiculous."
"I'll sign the AMA forms." Chloe swung her legs off the bed, pulled her phone out of the handbag on the nightstand, and dialed a number from memory. "Robert? It's Chloe. I need you to bring the car to the main entrance of NewYork-Presbyterian. Yes, now."
Harrison lunged forward and grabbed her arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Chloe wrenched her arm free. "That's none of your business."
Without another glance, she slid off the bed, grabbed her coat from the chair, and walked out of the room.
---
The drive back to the Sinclair estate on the Upper East Side felt dreamlike. Chloe rested her head against the cool glass of the car window, the city lights blurring into colorful streaks.
This was real. She was alive.
She dialed her father's number. The phone rang twice.
"Chloe? Is everything all right?"
A choked sob escaped her lips. "Dad."
"Chloe, what's wrong? Where are you?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. "I was in a minor accident. I'm fine. I'm on my way home right now. We need to talk."
---
As the car passed through the wrought iron gates of the family estate, she saw the study lit up. The butler, Thomas, opened the car door for her, his face marked with surprise at seeing her arrive alone, pale and disheveled.
She didn't stop to explain. She ran past him and pushed open the heavy mahogany door to the study.
Her father stood by the fireplace, a document in his hand. Her brother, Caleb, stood with his back to her, pouring himself a drink at the drinks cart.
A wrenching cry escaped her throat. Both men spun around, shock on their faces.
She stumbled across the room and threw herself into her father's arms.
"Chloe, baby, what's wrong?" Arthur murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "What happened? Where's Harrison?"
Caleb rushed to her side and placed his hand on her back. "Chloe, talk to us. What's going on?"
She just shook her head, unable to speak, crying even harder. As if mourning a past they would never know, and vowing to protect a future she would defend with her life.
This time, she would not waste it. She would make those people pay the price they deserved.
