Not concern for his pregnant daughter.
Not remorse for what he had done.
Fear for his money.
“Dad,” I whispered.
He ignored me.
“Listen carefully,” he snapped into the phone. “I own that company. Nobody freezes my accounts without my permission.”
I heard another voice responding, though I couldn’t make out the words.
Then Charles shouted something that made Courtney step backward.
“What do you mean I no longer have controlling authority?”
His phone slipped slightly in his hand.
I looked down at my own screen.
Samantha had sent a message.
DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING. THE TRUST PROTECTIONS ARE ACTIVE. HELP IS COMING.
A contraction gripped my stomach.
I bent forward, gasping.
And suddenly, the only thing that mattered was whether my baby would survive.
I dialed 911.
“My name is Victoria Gallagher,” I told the dispatcher. “I’m thirty-four weeks pregnant. My father assaulted me, and my water broke. I’m outside my house, and I think I’m going into labor.”
