8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
The world shifted beneath my feet.
“House is empty?” I repeated in a whisper. “What the hell does that mean…?”
Mona’s fingers were already flying across the screen. Empty how? I saw her type. Cars?
We both stared at the phone, waiting for the three dots to show, while twenty feet away Yukiko sat in a warm box laughing with Rachel Bayer, thinking the crisis was over and nothing in the world was wrong.
The three dots popped up all of ten seconds later.
No cars. Nobody home.
What the hell?
“Mona, we have to find out what happened,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m on it,” she said, her brow furrowing.
Somehow Mona had three different text chains open at the same time, her fingers blurring until it looked like she was sending several different messages simultaneously.
“I’m working my sources. I’m checking hospitals, prisons, anything I can think of.
Daniel and Vanessa have to be somewhere… ”
She took them, I thought, the words like poison in my guts. They’re gone.
I had no idea how or why. But I knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that Victoria Ruocchio was behind this. That she’d grabbed my boss, my mentor, my surrogate father in the middle of the night, bringing his wife along for the ride. Marcie’s parents. Were they even okay?
It was just about the worst thing I could think of.
And the ironic thing was, it was wrong.
And I was I about to wish I was right.
Back on stage, Rachel sat up a little straighter as the interview began to wrap up. “Thank you so much for joining us, Mrs. Avery,” she said, flashing her most winning smile. “Before we let you go—”
It’s not Colin.
It hit me like a slap in the face. I saw the look in that woman’s eyes, and I knew.
The Lauren question had been a gut punch. But it wasn’t the real attack. The hand grenade.
Colin Holloway had never been holding it.
This woman had.
“Mona,” I said, my tone dropping lower than I realized it could. “She—”
“Before we let you go,” Rachel repeated, “all of us here at Morning Harbor just want to say that our hearts are with your family this morning after the news about Daniel Ramsey.”
Oh. Oh God.
What!?
“How are you doing with all that, Yukiko?”
My princess froze. Confusion flickered across her face, then a faint smile—like she’d decided this had to be a joke, some kind of little prank being played on her. Slowly—too slowly for television, way too slow for her to be the queen she was meant to be—she realized it wasn’t.
That something terrible had happened.
It was here. The thing Kiki had been worried about all morning. And it didn’t show up because of her. Her mind didn’t go blank, she didn’t fumble a difficult question.
She had no earthly idea what Rachel was talking about.
Her hand went to my watch, the cuff rolling up enough for a corner of the blue dial to peek out. Her knuckles turned white. Despite the heat of the stage lights, she was trembling.
The audience didn’t know what to think. I could feel their confusion turning to shock.
“Daniel!?”
It wasn’t composed. It wasn’t quiet. The word tore out of Yukiko’s throat, the second syllable shooting up an entire octave. Tears filled Kiki’s eyes, the color draining from her face.
“What… what happened to Daniel? Is he alright!?” Yukiko looked from one host the other, for all the world like they were there to help her instead of make her look foolish in front of a live television audience. “Oh my God, Jack… oh my God, Marcie! She must be… what happened!?”
I’m going to have a panic attack. The thought arrived with an eerie calmness, like I’d just gotten a text message from my own soul. I’m going to have another panic attack and the paramedics are going to have to cart me out of here and it’s going to be front page news…
The hosts shared a look. “I’m so sorry,” Colin said, looking not sorry in the slightest. “Were you not aware? We were only just told—Mr. Ramsey had a stroke.”
“We don’t have any other details,” Rachel chimed in. “The… we’re told the family asked for privacy at this time. We assumed that you…”
They hadn’t assumed anything. They knew.
What Mona and I had been trying to desperately find out this entire interview these two had known the entire fucking time.
Even when they’d been in the green room, shaking hands with my princess, they’d been carrying this and waiting to aim it like a dagger at her heart—
Daniel had a stroke.
It hit me like a punch in the gut. Somehow I’d managed to let the anger fill me up first, the strategy and the double-cross and the fact that all of this was happening live on television—and then the shock and the grief washed over me and I genuinely did not care about any of it.
Daniel Ramsey. Had a stroke.
My mentor. The man who was more of a father to me than my real father.
Was he okay? Was he going to live? Was he…
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God…
I was so distracted I didn’t see the way the hosts recalibrated in the blink of an eye.
The way Colin’s face did a subtle, hungry shark move, like this was the best fucking television he’d produced his entire time at Morning Harbor and he planned to play it to the hilt.
Both of them leaned forward, a dozen follow-up questions brimming in their throats.
And Yukiko, sitting there shocked and vulnerable, her defenses down, tears streaming down her face.
Worried about Marcie and me and our family.
Pain flared in my side. When I looked down, Mona had put her elbow in my ribs.
“Go,” she snarled.
I blinked. It took a second for the word to sink in. “What—?”
“They are about to tear your wife apart,” she said through gritted teeth. “Get out there and stop them!”
I turned. Mona was right—she’d seen all of it before I could.
They’d done this on purpose. I had no idea why; if they’d been told to by the showrunner or if they were just that heartless.
But this was the real interview. They were going to pepper her with all the embarrassing questions now, all the hurtful ones—and she’d be completely unprepared. Reeling from the news.
I’m going to have a panic attack, I thought.
Daniel had a stroke—
“I don’t have a mic,” I said through numb lips.
“They will put a fucking boom mic over your head,” she said, shoving me. “Jack, now!”
I couldn’t. Live TV, a panic attack coursing through my system, the news about Daniel—
I looked. And saw Yukiko sitting there, frightened and alone.
I was walking before my brain could tell me what a terrible idea this was.
One second I was in the darkness, and the next I’d stepped out into a miniature sun.
I heard the shocked gasps of the audience as I walked across the stage, the bright lights forcing me to squint slightly.
In their chairs, I watched Rachel and Colin realize I was here—both of their expressions going from surprise to absolute delight.
Whatever happened from this moment on, this was sure to go viral. Good television, in other words.
I barely noticed them. I was looking at Yukiko.
The moment my eyes met my princess’s, I knew I’d made the right decision.
Another sob broke from her, her face filling with relief as she realized she was no longer alone.
By the time I made it to the couch she was halfway out of her seat, her arms outstretched like she was holding onto her composure by her fingernails.
My heart pounded against my ribcage like a jackhammer. My stream of consciousness carried a constant murmur: I’m going to have a panic attack don’t have a panic attack Daniel had a stroke oh god is Daniel okay is Daniel even alive I’m going to have a panic attack…
No. No. I could collapse later. Not now.
Not when Yukiko needed me this badly.
I ignored the surge of blood in my ears as I embraced her.
I could hear more shocked noises from the audience, as they knew this was not what was supposed to happen during this segment.
But as I pulled my princess into my arms and held her, bringing her face to my shoulder, the strangest damn thing began to happen.
There were cheers.
“I’m right here,” I said, helping Yukiko back into her seat.
When I opened my eyes, someone had indeed lowered a boom mic about three feet over my head, hanging it just above the top of the camera’s reach. No doubt they’d cranked it to pick up everything I said.
“Jack,” Yukiko whispered, sniffing hugely. “Daniel, they’re saying… oh my God, he’s like your father…”
“I know, princess,” I said. I turned to the hosts, my expression filling with scorn. “I think you might know more than we do this morning. Could we take just a second?”
Both of their expressions fell. I think that was the moment they realized the rest of the interview was not going to go at all the way they’d anticipated—and the second it clicked with the audience that something very unexpected and very mean had just been done to my wife.
I couldn’t see them through the lights, but I could feel the anger radiating from the rows.
“Of course,” Rachel said. “We can end the interview now if you’d like, Mr. Avery—”
“Just a moment,” I said, holding up a hand. “We’ve just learned something distressing from strangers, live on television. My pregnant wife needs a moment to compose herself.”
A moment you should’ve given her.
I didn’t say it. I didn’t need to. The tone I said it in made it as loud as a fucking cannon.
Yukiko held herself against me for another moment, gathering up her courage. I tried to ignore the pounding in my ears, the way the room felt both real and unreal at the same time, the way a part of me kept expecting all of this to dissolve at any moment as I woke up back in my own bed.
You can have the attack in two minutes, I told myself. Not now.
“I’m okay,” Kiki whispered, wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry—”
“No, it’s we who should apologize,” Rachel said, managing to sound like she meant it. “We weren’t aware, Mrs. Avery—”
“Daniel Ramsey means everything to us,” I said.