In Love by Christmas: A Paranormal Romance by Sandy Nathan Page A

day. Half killed him.
    Will wasn’t doing well. Exactly what he’d expected when he got back from the retreat had happened. Frank Sauvage and Ric Chao whirled around behind him like dervishes with razors, cutting away at his support in the Corporation. Hacking at his heels, not nipping at them.
    But he had to call Cass. Nothing made sense if he didn’t. If he didn’t have Cass, keeping Numenon meant nothing.
    He reached for the phone, the back of his hand tanned, his nails perfectly manicured.
     
    “Cass?” His voice seemed to echo through a vast space, even though it was just the phone in his study. They said she was well enough to talk for a few minutes from her bed.
    “Is that you, Daddy?” Her voice was tiny, a little girl’s, not the dreadful dragon’s. “Is that really you?”
    “Yes, baby. It’s me.”
    “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry.” Broken sobs.
    “Don’t be sorry, baby.”
    “Yes, I have to be sorry. I am sorry. We had a fight. I don’t remember what I said, but it was awful. I’m sorry.”
    He heard a voice in the background, a woman’s voice, “Cass, if this is too much for you, you can try later. Doctor wants you to be calm.”
    “I’m OK. It’s my dad.” Her attention shifted back to him, “I wanted you to know how sorry I am. I’ve caused so much trouble.” Frantic voice, unlike what he’d expected. “All my life. I’m sorry.”
    “Sweetie, that doesn’t matter. You getting well matters. Are you OK?”
    “I’m OK. I get tired. I sleep a lot.”
    “And eat too, I hope.”
    “Yes.” A short silence. “Daddy, I remember someone. He brought me here. His face was dark, but I could see his eyes. They were funny colored. Do you …”
    “No, I don’t know who that was, sweetheart. There were ambulance drivers. Doctors. Doug was there.”
    “It wasn’t Doug.” She sounded wistful. “I wish you knew who he was. I keep remembering his eyes.” She was crying. “I’m so sorry.” Her soft snuffling didn’t taper off.
    “Honey, don’t worry about it. I want you back on your feet, healthy, and we can talk about all that stuff.”
    He felt her faint; knew she had. The silence on the line told him, and the thunk when the phone hit the floor. A scuffle came through the receiver. Will shouted, “Hello! Hello! Is she all right? Hello! Talk to me!”
    A woman’s voice said, “Miss Duane fainted, Mr. Duane. She’s very ill.”
    “She’s going to make it, isn’t she?”
    “Doctor wishes to speak to you, sir. I’ll transfer your call.”
    Clicks and canned music and then a voice.
    “Mr. Duane? This is Vic Rankin, attending physician for your daughter.”
    “Is she all right?”
    “A medical team is with her. I’ll go to her momentarily.”
    “What happened?”
    “She fainted because of low blood pressure. We’ve done more tests and have more information about her condition we can give you now, if you have time?”
    “Yes. Tell me.”
    “You know some of this. Her internal organs—liver and kidneys, her heart—have been damaged by starvation. When the body doesn’t get enough protein, it essentially eats its own muscle, including the heart.
    “The drugs didn’t damage her very much physically. Heroin actually doesn’t cause that much bodily damage, unless you overdose. But the sexual abuse she’s been subjected to has all but destroyed her reproductive system. That and VD. We’re treating her, but she’s massively infected and has been for a long time.”
    Will sat silently, clutching the phone. “Are you saying she still could die?”
    A huge sigh. “Yes. I am. But I think she’ll pull through. She won’t be able to have children, however, except through transplanting her eggs to a surrogate. She can’t maintain a pregnancy physically.
    “She arrived here on death’s door. The fact that she’s alive is a miracle, and I don’t use that word lightly.” The doctor paused. He was stalling, hiding something more important.
    “What else?”
    “The