After we’ve cleaned up the plates, we all go into the living room, where Deion turns on the television and puts on the news. I sit down on a comfy recliner while Deion curls on the sofa with Ashanti. I’m staring at the TV without even blinking. Without breathing.
Because they’re showing my brother’s picture.
And the reporter says, “And in small news, the new CEO of the major corporation Davis Holding, Elijah Davis, has been hospitalized due to unknown reasons, but sources within the hospital tell us he’s on bedrest after a possible heart attack.”
I don’t hear any other words she says. The words “heart attack” ring in my ears over and over again while my own heart beats out of control. My brother … in the hospital?
I have to call him. Right. Now.
I get up from the seat and turn toward Deion. “Can I borrow your phone?”
He looks up at me, surprised. “Um … yeah, sure.” He hesitates, then pulls it from his pocket and hands it to me.
“I need to … call someone,” I say as I bolt into the hallway for some privacy. There’s only one hospital he could’ve gone to, so I type in the hospital’s name on Google. My father doesn’t trust any of the other hospitals in the area, and my brother always does what he says. There’s a number on the front page, so I call it and wait as the phone rings. A lady picks up and starts talking, but I interrupt her immediately.
“Hi, is Elijah Davis there? Can you get him on the phone for me, please?” I say. “I need to know if he’s okay.”
“Excuse me, who is this calling?” she says.
“Charlotte … Davis,” I reply in a softer tone, hoping Deion doesn’t hear. “I’m his sister.”
“Davis … hmm, yes, he’s here. Hold on, I’ll put you through.”
The phone goes dead for a few seconds. Then I hear my brother’s voice. “Hello?”
“Elijah,” I murmur, tears springing into my eyes. “You’re alive.”
“Charlotte?” His voice is raspy, probably from the tube they had to put in his throat to save him.
“Yes, yes!” I say, wiping away a tear. “It’s me.”
“How are you?” His tone suddenly shifts. “Where are you?”
Where … am I?
Why would he ask that? He knows I’m supposed to be with Easton … unless Easton’s already contacted my dad and him.
“I’m …” I swallow away the lump in my throat because I can’t answer this truthfully. “It doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” He sounds upset.
“You’re in the hospital,” I reply, rubbing my lips together. “I saw it on the news, your heart attack.”
“Heart attack?” he mumbles. “I’m only here for a broken foot. Fell down a few flights of stairs.”
“Wha-what?” My words fail me as I try to make sense of the situation. “But I saw it—”
Our conversation suddenly cuts off.
“Charlotte!” It’s my dad. He probably ripped the phone away from my brother. “Tell me where you are right now!”
So he knows. He knows I’m not in Easton’s possession anymore, which means Easton must have told him.
“What is going on with Elijah?” I ask, ignoring his question. I want to know what happened because it’s as if I’m being kept in the dark intentionally.
“Elijah is in the hospital, but you already know that. It’s exactly why you called. But he’s being taken care of perfectly here. Now tell me where you are.” I can hear the disdain in his voice, and I don’t trust him one bit.
“Why d-did they say it w-was a heart attack?” I’m stuttering now.
“Charlotte, if you’re that worried about Elijah, I can pick you up and take you to him. You two can talk over here at the hospital.”
“No, tell me the truth,” I say.
“Charlotte,” he says with a condescending tone. “Look, if you don’t want to tell me where you are, will you at least tell your brother? Then we can pick you up. He’s been dying to see you.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it,” I say. “Is Elijah’s injury even real? Or did you tell the journalists some lie about a heart attack so they’d put it on the news? That’s it, isn’t it?” My blood boils, overflowing with rage. “You were trying to get me to contact you.”
“Just fucking tell me where you are, goddammit!” he yells, making me hold my hand over my mouth in shock. “My life is on the line. If I don’t tell Easton where you are, he’ll …”
“Don’t.” Tears roll down my cheeks. “Don’t hold this over me. This was not my choice. None of this was.”
“This loan was the only way to save the business, and you know that,” he says. “My life’s on the line here. If he doesn’t get you back, what will stop him from coming after me again? Nothing.”
“Stop,” I plead. “Just stop. Don’t do this, please.”