The coordinator texted me a thank-you, saying Harrison had been furious but did end up paying again.
I smiled faintly, set an alarm, and collapsed into bed.
But then Harrison started blowing up my phone.
I blocked his number, powered off my phone, and went back to sleep.
Until a violent pounding erupted at my door.
"Tilda Johnson! Open this door!"
The moment I heard Harrison's voice, I realized I'd forgotten to turn off our couples' location sharing.
His voice dripped with fury. The image of Claudia deliberately throwing herself onto the ground flashed unbidden through my mind.
Had she actually lost the baby?
Or was this about the shares I'd sold?
The next second, Harrison kicked the hotel door open.
He stormed in, eyes bloodshot, grabbed my arm, and dragged me toward the door.
"Claudia miscarried because you pushed her. They couldn't even save her uterus. And you're in here sleeping?"
I struggled, tried to explain.
"I didn't push her. She fell on purpose—"
Harrison shoved me into the car.
"That was the only child she'll ever have. Why would she do that to herself?"
He locked the doors and floored it all the way to the hospital.
Then he forced me to my knees in front of Claudia's hospital bed.