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"You little sh—"
Leonard intervenes. "Gentlemen. Let's try toactlike gentlemen at least. Gerry, I think Matthias's question is a valid one."
Gerry stutters intelligibly for a moment. And then blurts out, "It was sent to me! Anonymously!"
"Really? What a windfall. Can we see the email? Or text message? Or talk to the pigeon messenger that sent it to you? Surely you still have it."
Several board members murmur their agreement.
Damien flicks me a look behind Matthias' back. He knows the energy has shifted, but we still need to capitalize on it. And it won't be permanent.
I nod to him, gesturing for Matthias to sit down and make way for Damien.
"I also see that the details of the Baxter bid in the article are quite thorough. Are you suggesting that Miss Pham colluded with this article as well as with Farmington and Hamilton? That seems even more far-fetched than the original allegations. I don't know about everyone else, but I certainly don't think anyone who was actively involved in putting together the bid would have shared privileged information with either of those companies. I mean, was it you, Kingsley?" Damien asks.
I shake my head.
"So far we're really only seeingoneconnection between the article, and someone who might have been able to provide those details. The person who was then sent an advance copy. Wouldn’t you agree,Uncle Gerry?"
Gerry slams his hand on the table, practically foaming at the mouth as a string of expletives spill from his lips.
Leonard bangs his gavel, three, four times trying to bring the room to order.
“Gerry. Sit down! Sit down until you can answer properly. Or else we will have to take a recess!”
"No! I have a right to answer these accusations from those little shits!" he faces our father, who's watching his younger brother with a blank expression. “Jeremy, is this how you raised our father's grandsons?"
Our father, always calm, slowly stands up, and opens his mouth, about to respond when Damien’s phone buzzes on the table.
He scans it, turns white and grabs the front of my jacket.
"Kingsley. We have to go. Luna's on her way back to the hospital. "
Fifty-One
Kingsley
I'm not sure howwe get to the hospital in under ten minutes, but we do. Probably because Matthias was behind the wheel. I remember thinking that if Luna thought I drove like a madman, she would faint sitting in the passenger seat of a car that Matthias was driving.
Clarissa is waiting at the ER entrance when we get there.
"What happened?" I practically shout.
"She was upset about something, and she was on her phone pacing back and forth in the bedroom, getting really, really worked up. My-Linh was in there with her but she came out for like one minute to get Luna some tea, but when she came back, Luna was slumped on the floor, the stitches all along her side had torn and blood was seeping through her bandages."
Oh my god. I feel sick that I wasn't there with her. "What did the doctors say?"
"They said she should be okay but that she needs a lot of rest. Her heart rate was through the roof, and she must've been in a lot of pain when her stitches popped. He thinks they'd probably been like that for at least ten minutes before she actually passed out—”
I don't hear what else she says because I push through the doors, running from room to room looking for her.
"Luna!" I shout, frantic.
"Sir, you need to be quiet,” a passing nurse warns me.
"Luna!" I shout ignoring her.
Damien comes up behind me, grabs my arms, dragging me into a room halfway down the corridor, and pushes me inside without a word.
