"Watch out!" Harrison yelled from the front passenger seat.
The SUV swerved violently across the lane. The tires screeched, a horrific sound of rubber tearing against asphalt.
Through the windshield, headlights appeared out of nowhere. A delivery truck was merging, too close, too fast.
Time seemed to slow down for Charls. He saw the truck's grill. He saw the driver's terrified face. He felt the SUV begin to tip as his driver overcorrected.
He didn't think about his portfolio. He didn't think about his legacy.
He looked at Eve. She was frozen, her hand still reaching for the door handle, her eyes wide with sudden, sobering terror.
Charls threw himself across the seat. He wrapped his body around hers, shielding her head with his chest, his hand cupping the back of her skull.
"Hold on!"
CRASH.
The impact was deafening. Metal crumpled like paper. Glass exploded inward in a glittering shower. The SUV spun, hit the median, and rolled.
The world became a washing machine of violence. Charls felt his shoulder slam against the door pillar. A sharp, sickening crack echoed through his arm. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let go of Eve. He buried her face into his coat, taking the brunt of the glass shards raining down on them.
The car came to a rest upside down.
Silence. Absolute, terrifying silence. Then, the hiss of steam and the drip of fluids.
"Eve?" Charls whispered. His voice was raspy. Blood was dripping into his eye from a cut on his forehead.
Eve didn't answer. She was limp in his arms, her head resting heavily against his broken shoulder.
"Eve!" Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through his shock. He tried to shift, but his left arm screamed in agony.
"Sir?" Harrison's voice came from the front, groggy. "Are you okay?"
"Check her," Charls gasped. "Call 911. And check the driver."
Sirens were already wailing in the distance. Harrison, groaning, unbuckled himself and crawled toward the front. "Driver's unconscious, sir, pinned by the airbag. But he's breathing."
The emergency room at Lenox Hill was a blur of fluorescent lights and shouting.
Charls sat on a gurney in the hallway, refusing to lie down. His left arm was in a temporary sling, his expensive suit ruined, stained with blood and oil.
"Mr. Wiley, you need a CT scan," a nurse insisted.
"I'm fine," Charls snapped, though he was dizzy. "Where is she?"
Down the hall, behind double doors, a team of doctors was working on Eve.
The doors burst open. Silas Franks ran in, looking disheveled, followed closely by Huldah Franks. Huldah looked impeccable, even at 2 AM, but her face was pale.
Silas spotted Charls. He marched over, grabbing Charls by his good lapel.
"What did you do to her?" Silas roared, shaking him. "If she doesn't wake up, I will kill you, Wiley!"
"Get off him, Silas," Huldah commanded sharply. She looked at Charls, assessing the damage. "Is she alive?"
"She's unconscious," Charls said, his voice flat. He pushed Silas away. "Head trauma. The doctors are running scans now."
"Why was she in your car?" Huldah asked, her eyes narrowing. "The internet is saying you two were... intimate at a club."
Charls laughed, a dark, humorless sound. "She was drunk. I was trying to stop her from doing something stupid. She grabbed the wheel."
The doctor emerged from the trauma room. He pulled off his surgical mask.
"Family of Ms. Franks?"
"Here," Huldah stepped forward. "I'm her mother."
"She has a severe concussion and some bruising," the doctor said. "Physically, she will recover. But the impact to the temporal lobe was significant. There is swelling. We won't know the extent of the neurological damage until she wakes up."
Charls let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. She was alive.
He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a throbbing pain in his arm and a strange, heavy weight in his chest. He kept seeing her face right before the crash. The heartbreak.
Who hurt her? he wondered. Who made Eve Franks drink herself into oblivion?
