The Las Vegas hospital was a blur of bright lights and antiseptic smells. My mother was in surgery, her life hanging by a thread.
I sat in the waiting room, my body trembling, my mind a storm of rage and fear.
I had to call him. It was my only move.
I found the number my mother had hidden in an old address book. Rick. My uncle.
My fingers fumbled with the phone, and I prayed he would answer.
A deep, powerful voice answered on the second ring. "This is Rick."
"Uncle Rick?" My voice was a choked whisper. "It's... it's Chloe. Sarah's daughter."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Chloe. My God. What's wrong? You sound terrified."
Tears streamed down my face. "It's Mom. She's... there was an accident. We're at Sunrise Hospital in Las Vegas. She's in surgery. I don't know if she's going to make it."
"Stay right where you are," he commanded, his voice a blade of steel. "Don't talk to anyone. Don't sign anything. I'm on my way. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
The line went dead.
For the first time since I woke up this morning, a tiny sliver of hope pierced through the darkness.
Just then, the waiting room doors swung open.
Frank rushed in, his face a perfect mask of concern. "Chloe! I got here as fast as I could! What happened? The police called me, said there was a hit-and-run."
He tried to put his arm around me, but I shoved him away.
"Don't touch me," I snarled.
He looked hurt, confused. A brilliant actor. "Chloe, I'm your father. I'm worried about your mother."
"Are you?" I asked, my voice dripping with ice. "Are you worried, Frank? Or are you just worried your plan didn't work?"
He flinched, a flicker of something ugly in his eyes before the mask was back in place. "What are you talking about? You're in shock. It's understandable."
He sat down across from me, the concerned husband, the worried father. He was waiting. Waiting for the doctors to come out and tell him his wife was dead.
But he wasn't the only one on his way. My uncle was coming.
And the game was about to change.