“Stable?” I repeated, because my brain wanted to rewind and listen again. “What happened?”
“We’ll explain when you arrive,” he said, voice measured, professional. The kind of calm that only exists when something has already gone very wrong and everyone in the room is focusing hard on keeping it contained. “One more thing— the vehicle involved is registered to you.”
The call ended before I could ask what that meant.
For a full second I sat there with my phone pressed to my ear, listening to nothing. The office didn’t change. It kept going, oblivious. My body, though, felt like it had slipped out of alignment. My hands began shaking so sharply I had to lock my fingers together under the desk.
Lucy.
My chair scraped back with a sound that cut through my own head. I stood so fast it tipped over, and someone two desks away looked up as if I’d committed a social offense. I didn’t care. I grabbed my bag, my keys, my jacket I didn’t need, anything that made me feel like I was doing something.
“I have to go,” I told my manager, already walking.