ELIJAH'S POV
The reporters were like vultures circling a fresh kill. They'd been camped outside the hospital for hours, and now they'd followed me home. Their camera flashes lit up my windshield every few seconds. I could hear them shouting questions through the glass.
"Mr. Rossi! How is your wife doing?"
"Is it true she attempted suicide?"
"Are you getting divorced?"
I kept my head down and walked quickly to my front door. The key stuck in the lock like it always did when I was in a hurry. Behind me, the cameras kept clicking. Tomorrow's headlines were already writing themselves in my head.
The house was quiet when I stepped inside. Too quiet. Mother had sent a mesaage that she would be around. Charlotte was probably upstairs sleeping. The poor kid had been through enough today without having to deal with reporters and flashing lights.
"You're late."
