Page 130 of Fall of a Kingdom

Blood roared through my veins. “What do you mean she’s dying?”

“Bella said Mam has a tumor in her brain. What’s a tumor, Da?”

What the fuck?

“Where are you, Hawk?” I asked.

“On the porch, snuggled under a blanket with Betty.”

“Good. Listen, I’ll explain what a tumor is later, aye? But I need you to do something for me. I need you to be strong. I’m leaving London right now. All right? I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I love you, Da.”

“I love you, too, lad.” I hung up with him and pressed the cell phone to my forehead.

Could I really take the word of my seven-year-old son who didn’t know what the hell a tumor was?

I lowered my phone and stared at it for a moment. I knew who I could call to confirm what Hawk had told me.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled through my contacts list. My thumb hovered over his name for a moment and then I pressed it.

He answered on the second ring. “Flynn.”

“What’s wrong with my wife, Sasha?”

He paused as if carefully weighing his words, and then he sighed. “Christ.”

“Tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me what’s wrong with her, like you should’ve done in the first place, so I didn’t have to hear it from my oldest son who overheard the nannies talking about it.”

“Fuck. Hawk knows?”

“Damn right he knows,” I seethed. “What the hell do you know that I don’t?”

“She had a seizure,” he said quietly. “A few days ago. I was there when it happened. That’s the only reason I know anything. I took her to the hospital.”

When he fell silent, I snapped, “Finish it!”

“She came to London to tell you, but then the bomb… She has a brain tumor. It’s aggressive. She’s refusing treatment, Flynn.”

My hand clenched around my cell phone. I felt the metal bend and had to force myself not to throw it just to watch it shatter.

Bile churned in my belly, but I mashed it down before it shot up my throat.

A hazy red veil descended over my eyes.

Without a word, I disconnected.

In less than twelve hours, I would be standing in front of journalists and the press to make a statement that was supposed to cover my arse. It would save the face of my hotel empire. We were supposed to rehabilitate our public image. For years, I’d chosen the SINS over everything and everyone.

But all I could think about now was my wife.

Nothing else mattered.

Like hell she’s refusing treatment.

That was not a decision she could make in a vacuum. Not when it came to our life and our children.

I dialed my pilot. He picked up and I said, “I want to leave immediately.”