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"Who is it?" I ask, peering at the screen.
"It's my mom. She doesn't usually call this early," Lacey says, concern creasing her brow.
"Do you need to take it?"
She hesitates before handing me the phone. I press the call button. "Hello?"
"Lacey? Mija? Is that you?" Her mom sounds frantic.
"No, Mrs. Alvarez, it's Aidan, Lacey's boss. She's... just a moment away," I cover smoothly.
"Oh, Aidan, thank goodness. I've been trying to reach her. There's been an accident."
"An accident?" My heart skips. Lacey's eyes are wide with fear. "What happened?"
"It's her dad," Mrs. Alvarez chokes out. "He collapsed at work. They've taken him to the hospital."
"I'll tell her right now," I assure her, my tone steady. "Is there anything else we can do?"
"Just please get her here as soon as possible."
"We will. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Alvarez."
After she hangs up, Lacey is already out of bed, pulling on her clothes. "I heard. I need to go."
"I'm coming with you," I say, grabbing my pants from the floor.
She looks at me, tears starting to form, then nods. "Thank you, Aidan," her voice cracks.
I don't respond; I just hold her close, offering silent support.
"Thank me when we see your dad," I say softly, grabbing my shirt and phone, dialing for help with the other hand.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LACEY
The world blurs at the edges as Aidan arranges for the captain to steer the yacht to shore. My mind races with thoughts as we hurry back to the Montfaire hotel, where Grace and Jesse await us
I struggle to meet their eyes, overwhelmed by the weight of my family's crisis. Thankfully, Aidan steps up, pulling every string to get us a private flight out of Manhattan and back to Seattle ASAP.
The helicopter ride to the airfield passes in a blur, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of my dad.
He'd been sneaking back to work, a fact I was completely unaware of. Realizing his short-term disability must have expired hits hard, highlighting my disconnect from my family's reality.
Guilt twists in my gut, growing tighter with each mile we fly away from the city.
At the airfield, about to board the private jet, the word 'fraud' haunts me. Here I am, engulfed in luxury, while my dad lies in a hospital bed, buried in bills.
How did we get here?
With Jesse keeping Aidan's seven-year-old busy, I sit beside Aidan in tense silence, waiting for takeoff. "It's going to be okay," he murmurs, his voice soothing my frayed nerves.
Just as the engines roar to life, Aidan's phone buzzes. He checks it, then decisively shuts it off.
As we leave the city lights behind, Aidan takes my hand, pulling me close. Tears fall as I lean into his warmth, finding solace in his touch.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice barely breaking through.
