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I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture of her.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a picture of my new best friend.”
From the moment I met her, I knew that Tatum was going to be a permanent fixture in my life. I just didn’t know the rich kid who had my dad perform for his birthday would be too.
I looked over at Tatum, who had gone back to folding t-shirts. “Be right back. Potty break.” I was actually going to text Lincoln, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Can you bring me back a water?”
I bumped her with my shoulder. “Anything for my girl.” Then I winked and walked away, leaving her laughter behind me.
After texting Lincoln a sexy bathroom selfie, I headed off to find the kitchen, documenting my journey on video. I’d edit it all later and post it to my story. Maybe it would motivate other people to jump on board and help, too.
I was just about to turn the corner when the sound of voices stopped me in my tracks.
“You’re talking about population control.”
I recognized that voice. My mind raced to place it.
I leaned my back against the wall just outside the kitchen door and held my breath.
Another voice carried into the hallway. “If we can’t do it by force, then we’ll do it by consumption.”
The first voice replied, “You mean lacing the medicine and food with infertility drugs.”
“Did you have another plan?”
Silence.
Oh my god.
Every muscle went rigid. Instinct told me to run, but my body was like petrified stone. Panic swelled inside me.
The boxes.
They were sending “care” packages laced with drugs to stop an entire nation from reproducing.
If you took a life before it ever had a chance to live, was it still murder?
If not, why did I suddenly feel like I needed to throw up?
“These people are reproducing faster than our capacity to feed them and provide proper health care. Sacrifices have been made since the beginning of time. This is better than letting them starve.”
The voices. I knew them now. They belonged to Kipton Donahue and Pierce Carmichael, two of the nation’s richest and most powerful men. The Donahue family was old money—oil money—and the Carmichaels owned half of New York’s real estate. I’d been around them plenty of times over the years thanks to Tatum’s family.
I forced my feet to move. I needed to get out of here, out of this hallway, out of this building. I wasn’t even sure how to process this right now.
My breath exploded from my lungs as I hurried back down the hall to the main area to grab Tatum and go. I was almost there when I collided with a hard chest. That was when I realized I was holding my phone in my hand… and I was still recording. The whole thing, the entire conversation, was right here on my phone.
“Everything okay?” Malcolm Huntington’s voice made me jump.
I said nothing, just stared blankly while chewing the inside of my mouth.Please, God, don’t let him be in on this.How would I tell Tatum her dad was a monster?
“Lyric?”
Fear prickled my scalp as I fought to find my voice. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat, then shoved my phone in the pocket of my jeans. “Everything’s fine.” It was sonotfine.
Then I hurried back to Tatum, faking a stomachache so we could get the fuck out of here.
