I Called 17 Times for Help

Five years later, I ran into Ethan again at Daisy's parent-teacher conference.

The hallway was almost empty.

I was kneeling by the classroom door, tying Daisy's shoelaces.

When I looked up, a pair of custom-made, dark leather Oxford shoes stopped just three feet away.

My hand instinctively pressed down on the thick silver cuff on my left wrist.

Daisy grabbed the edge of my skirt and shrank back behind me.

I patted her hand gently and stood up.

He stood there, one hand slipped casually into his tailored suit pocket.

His voice was low, laced with a familiar, controlled tension.