“Help….” The little girl whispers thinly, shivering from the cold, shifting her bare feet on the icy concrete floor.
“Mom is there,” she points a finger at the balcony door of the apartment. Smoke from the gap in the frame billows thicker and thicker.
“Save Mom!”
There’s so much despair in her voice that you can’t walk away. I already climbed to her on the third floor.
A city walk with the mayor—under flashes of cameras—suddenly turns into an emergency. Election PR goes to hell. The mayor is furious. And she’s planning to take our relationship all the way to marriage. It would be beneficial for my business to agree. But there’s one “but”…
The girl’s mother is taken to the hospital, and the child remains in my arms. And the truth about her father knocks the ground out from under my feet.