After Her Arrogant Husband Hires His Mistress to Publicly Humiliate Her at Their $450 Million Firm, Secret Board Advisor Claire Signs Their Direct Dismissal Order Only to Pay a Devastating Personal...
The emergency board meeting was set for the next morning. I had barely slept, the image of Julian’s smug face and the gnawing worry for Leo battling for dominance in my mind. Just as I was dressing, the phone shrieked, an unfamiliar number flashing on the screen.
I answered, my heart already in my throat.
“Claire? It’s Martha. They have Leo!” Her voice was a terrified gasp, riddled with sobs.
My blood ran cold. “What are you talking about, Martha? Where is he?”
“The police! They pulled him over just a few blocks from the facility. Said it was for unpaid parking tickets, then changed it to reckless driving. They took him to the precinct.” She paused, a choked sound in her throat. “He was so scared, Claire. He kept asking for you.”
“Which precinct?” I demanded, already grabbing my keys, my hands shaking.
“The 17th. Please, Claire, he’s not well. His heart…” Martha’s voice trailed off into a desperate cry.
I slammed the phone down and sprinted out the door, hailing a taxi outside my Upper East Side townhouse. The ride felt impossibly long, the normally bustling city streets a blur outside the window. Every second felt like an hour, every traffic light a personal affront.
When I burst into the 17th Precinct lobby, it was a cacophony of ringing phones and bored officers. I rushed to the front desk, my voice raw.
“I’m Claire Montgomery-Kincaid. My brother, Leo Montgomery, was brought in. I need to see him.”
The officer at the desk barely looked up. “Name?” he droned. “Montgomery. Check the arrest log.”
“He’s vulnerable. He has a heart condition,” I pleaded, leaning over the counter. “This is a mistake.”
A stern-faced Sergeant approached, a name tag reading ‘Sergeant Rodriguez’ on his uniform. “Ma’am, Mr. Montgomery is being processed for a string of traffic violations, including reckless endangerment.”
“Reckless endangerment? Are you insane?” I retorted, my control slipping. “He has a congenital heart defect! He doesn’t even have a driver’s license that allows him to drive unsupervised!”
Just then, from a row of detention cells, I heard a faint, distressed cry. “Claire? Claire!”
I spun around. Through the bars, I saw Leo, huddled on a bench, his face pale and slick with sweat. His eyes were wide with terror, darting around the noisy, hostile environment. He looked utterly lost, like a frightened child.
“Leo!” I cried, trying to push past Sergeant Rodriguez. He blocked my path with a firm arm.
“He’s having trouble breathing,” another officer called out from inside the cell block. “He’s clutching his chest.”
My blood ran cold. Leo’s face was turning ashen, his lips tinged blue. He coughed, a terrible, rattling sound, and then his eyes rolled back. He slumped sideways off the bench.
“Leo! Get back! He’s collapsing!” I screamed, hammering on the counter, my voice cracking. “He’s having a cardiac event! Get him help now!”
The officers scrambled, a flicker of genuine alarm finally crossing their faces. Paramedics were called, their sirens wailing distantly as I watched, helpless, through the bars, as they began chest compressions on my brother. The noise and chaos of the precinct faded into a dull roar, replaced by the frantic beeps of medical equipment and the terrible, hollow sound of my own breath catching in my throat.
Julian’s message had been delivered. And the cost was too high.
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