No answer. A tight and bitter knot settles in my stomach, ruining the taste of my whiskey. I set the glass down, frowning. Why didn’t she call again after missing me the first time?
Another buzz. A text from my lawyer.
"Did you see the news?"
My frown deepens and I type back: "No. What news?"
"I…I think it’s better if I just show you. I’m sorry, Adam."
What the hell is he talking about?
A link pops up almost instantly. I tap it, and my world stops.
The headline of the news article screams at me, narrowing my world to seven words.
"Breaking: Tech Mogul's Wife in Car Accident"
The words blur as I scan the article. Destiny. Car accident. Paparazzi chase. My heart pounds in my ears.
There are no relevant photos in the article, only a stock image of a wreckage. The car in the image is crumpled and destroyed, making my mind reel with possibilities of what happened to Destiny and my daughter.
"Fuck!" I slam my fist on the counter, the sound echoing through the empty house.
I dial Destiny again. Voicemail. Again.
"Destiny, it's me. Call me back immediately. I need to know you're okay."
My mind races. The airport photos. I thought she'd left the city. Was it all fake? A setup? Did the fucking paparazzi make shit up just to stir things?
Bloody idiots.
I grab my keys, already heading for the door. I need answers, and I need them now.
As I rush to my car, I realize that Destiny must have called after the accident. Fuck. Every fiber of my being is hoping that she and Avery are okay.
I dial Destiny's number again.
Straight to voicemail. "Goddammit!"
I pull up the article again, scanning for any details about the crash location. There. A stretch of highway about two hours outside the city. I quickly search for the nearest hospital and dial their number.
"St. Mary's Hospital, how may I direct your call?"
"I need information on a patient. Destiny Lewis. She was in a car accident?—"
"I'm sorry, sir, but we can't disclose patient information over the phone."
"Listen, I'm her husband. Our daughter was with her. I need to know if they're okay."
"Sir, I understand your concern, but?—"
I cut her off. "No, YOU don't understand. I'm Adam Ryder. I'll be there in an hour. Have someone ready to talk to me."
I hang up, pushing aside the fear slowly coiling around my heart. I will remain calm. As I always do.
My hand pauses on the door handle. I send a text to Thomas, asking him to get back to me immediately.
When I slide into my car, my phone buzzes. A text.