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Sitting up, I tried to ignore the chill that went up my spine and the hair on my arms standing up.
“Are you alright?” Dalila asked.
“Yes, sorry, what was your question?” I tried again to focus.
“I asked how you felt when you saw that video of your father, not only involved with millions of dollars’ worth of drugs, but also a shootout with police?” she repeated, and I knew she had been dying to get on this topic for the last forty minutes.
“Honestly, when I saw it, I didn’t connect to it. I didn’t feel anything but sadness for the police officers who had gotten hurt and a sense of pride in the city for getting that many drugs out of circulation.”
“When you say you didn’t connect to it—”
“I mean what I have been trying to explain to you—nothing. When it comes to Frank, I don’t see him as my father. I don’t see him as anything but a pitiful human being who has only ever cared about how he can use people to benefit himself. So when media repeatedly refers to him as ... father of former child star and actor Noah Sloan, for the sole purpose of boosting ratings, I get frustrated. I’m not a prop. I’m my own human being.”
“I understand that, but he is your father, and you can’t escape that—”
“Dalila, there is no perfect family. So imagine if you or anyone else was judged not based on their own actions but that of another grown adult. I cannot control Frank’s actions. I wish I could. I wish he was a better human being. But I can’t and he isn’t. That isn’t my fault. I refuse to let him define who I am at this present moment. I refuse to accept the responsibility of atoning for another man’s sins. If you or anyone else wants to insult me or drag my name through the mud, do so, but do so for my own actions, not Frank’s. I hope he is caught soon and when he is, there will be no support from me.”
“Before I—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sloan,” Daniel rushed to the patio, interrupting her right in the middle of taping me.
“Who is that?” Dalila snapped, pointing to him. “Excuse me, we are—”
“Mr. Sloan. It’s an emergency—it’s Amelia.”
That feeling. The fear. It all rushed back, and I was up pulling off the microphone as I moved toward him.
“What’s going on?” I asked as he ushered me through the suite, and one by one, I noticed people start checking their phones. “Daniel!” I yelled when we got in to the hall, now running toward the elevators.
“There was an accident. There are videos of Austin pulling her from the car, but then Bo took her.”
“He took her?” I repeated as he pushed the lobby button several more times.
“Kidnapped her. He kidnapped her, sir.”
Why? Why? It was like he punched me. All the air in my lungs vanished, my throat went dry, and I could feel my heart racing far too quickly. Why couldn’t I ever protect her? Why was I always dragging her down? Why didn’t I just walk away?
Loving me was the worst thing that ever happened to her. She always got hurt because of me!
“Ugh!” No. Not now! I held my own hand, breathing slowly. In and out. In and out. I could not break down here. Not now. Not when she was just out there without anyone.
“Sir?”
Pushing myself off the wall, I stood straighter. “I’m good.”
“The media is—”
“I don’t care. What happened to Austin?”
“From what I’ve heard and the video, Austin rushed back to get Ms. London, Amelia’s mother, from the car when it went up in flames—”
“What? Esther? He went to get Esther from the car?”
He nodded, not understanding how that should not have been possible.
“He got Amelia out first, and then went to get her mother, but the car went up in smoke and fire sparked. He’s been rushed to the hospital. He’s badly burned.”
“That’s where we’re going.” Something didn’t make sense. If Esther’s body was in the car, that means they—both Austin and Amelia—went to get her themselves.
