DEBORAH'S POV
I stumbled out of the school building into the blinding afternoon sunlight, my legs shaking beneath me. My hands fumbled with my car keys, dropping them twice before I managed to unlock the Bentley. I collapsed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, my ruined hair falling into my eyes.
"Fuck," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
I stared at myself in the rearview mirror. My new blonde disaster of a haircut made me look like a stranger—wild-eyed and desperate. Imogen's words echoed in my head like a death knell.
I'll tell Elijah about the child you lost. About why you can't have another.
My stomach twisted violently. I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and dug through it until I found my phone. I dialed my father's number with trembling fingers, pressing the phone to my ear.
No answer.
"God damn it," I hissed, ending the call and immediately redialing.
Still nothing.
