Something in my tone unsettled her. Panic crept into her voice. "Where are you?"
I let out a dry chuckle.
"I'm at the hospital, Layla."
"Waiting for my brain tumor surgery."
A sharp intake of breath. The clatter of a dropped phone. I powered off my device and walked into the operating room.
Just wait. When I wake up, we settle every debt.
Layla stared at her phone, listening to the disconnected tone. She redialed frantically—straight to voicemail.
She grabbed her coat and bolted for the door.
She nearly collided with her assistant in the hallway. "Not now!" she snapped. "I have an emergency."
He hesitated, holding out a document. "CEO Matthews... this is urgent. It's a divorce agreement from Mr. Delgado."
Layla froze. Her gaze locked onto the black-and-white document.
The word Divorce stung like acid.
