BookToReadChapter 16 A streak of red cut through the midnight hush, stark against the endless white beneath the streetlights.
With her mind preoccupied with worry for her daughter, Victoria hardly noticed the snow piling up outside, falling harder and faster by the minute.
She sat in her car, shivering as the cold seeped in through the doors, and fished out her phone to call McNeil.
Not a sound stirred. On such a frigid night, with the hour so late, the roads were deserted-no headlights, not even a shadow passing by.
The gas gauge hovered near empty. Dawn was still hours away, and no matter how many layers she wore, she wouldn't last long without heat. If the car's engine died, so might she-frozen before sunrise.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtInside McNeil's car, her calls went unanswered, the n"Victoria" blinking insistently on his dashboard screen. He glanced at it—just for a moment. It wasn't his daughter calling, so he ignored it.
Violet was coughing up blood. She'd just cout of surgery earlier that day. The doctors had said it was a success-so why was this happening? He had no patience for Victoria's calls, not tonight. He had to save Violet.
Just like Violet had once risked everything to save him.
Victoria kept dialing, desperate to reach McNeil-to beg him to cback and take her with him to Winding Peak Lane to see their daughter.
If something really was wrong, she needed to be there, ready to bring Gwyneth home.
But no matter how many times she called, no one ever picked up.
The cold inside the car intensified, numbing her to the bone. In ten more minutes, she'd be frozen stiff.
With no other choice, Victoria abandoned the useless car by the roadside, bracing herself as she stepped out into the storm.
The whole street lay buried under snow. Each step she took left deep, heavy footprints behind her, and as she trudged forward through the biting wind, she kept trying McNeil's number again and again.
Her fingers were so numb she could barely grasp the phone, but still, no one answered. Meanwhile, McNeil raced back to Winding Peak Lane as fast as he could.
His black SUV slid into the driveway, and a housekeeper rushed out to open his door.
"Sir, she's been vomiting blood," the woman said, her voice tight with worry. McNeil barely noticed that the housekeeper had stopped calling Violet "Ms. Marchand" and instead said "she." He took the stairs two at a time. The nurse they'd hired was in the bedroom, cleaning blood off the sheets and swapping them for fresh ones.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"Violet-" Inside, Violet was propped up in bed, sipping a little broth. Gwyneth had just finished a drawing and held it out to her, beaming.
"Look, Violet-see? That's you and Daddy, and that's me. I drew us all together at the amusement park." Violet managed a faint smile.
The disaster he'd dreaded hadn't cto pass. McNeil let out a shaky breath of relief.
For a moment there, he'd thought he might lose her.
"Mr. Langford, Ms. Marchand coughed up a bit of old blood, the nurse said "We've hooked her up to fluids, but she's stable. There's no immediate danger."
McNeil moved to the bedside, and Violet, pale but trying to reassure him, smiled faintly/"fm all right. You don't have to worry." Her voice was so soft, McNeil had to read her lips to catch the words.
"Daddy, don't leave again," Gwyneth begged, wrapping her arms around him. "If something happened to En Violet, what would we do?" McNeil stroked her hair, gentle and steady. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll stay here, with you and Violet." "And if Mom calls, you can't answer, okay?" Gwyneth pleaded, afraid Victoria would convince him to leave. McNeil's finger hovered over his phone for a moment. Then, quietly, he powered it off.
"All right," he promised. "I won't answer."
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