Dante's Pov.
My phone rang.
Then again. Then again.
Three missed calls in under a minute–all from home.
I frowned, irritation curling low in my gut. I was standing in the middle of a boardroom downtown, half-listening to some suit talk numbers and projections, but something about that phone made my stomach twist. Claire knows better than to call me over and over unless something was wrong.
I stepped out without a word.
By the time I picked up, I was already walking fast, heat building under my skin.
“Claire?” I barked. “What is it?”
There was a pause–but not silence. No, I heard things in the background, shouting. Static. Movement.
Then her voice, strained and breathless. “Sir–its Miss Eloise. She's–she’s been poisoned. She's on the way to the hospital.
The world stoppe
