His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

187 You Should Stay Away From Trouble

"I'm going to check on her," I said, pulling the door open when Frade stopped me.

"You don't want to see her like this." Frade closed the door. "I've called an ambulance. You'd better stay in the car at this time."

The sound of an ambulance rang out in front, and the passers-by in front of them immediately dispersed to make way for the medical staff. My heart felt like it was being pulled up. Although I don't like Margaret, I never thought she would die.

"Should we follow the ambulance to the hospital?" I looked uneasily ahead as two men in ambulance uniforms prepared to carry the wounded to the ambulance bed.

"No," said Frade decisively. "The rest will be taken care of. We should get out of here."

There was an air of evasiveness in his words, and even if Margaret's accident had nothing to do with us, it was hard to imagine what they would have written in the newspaper the next day if we had been caught on camera.

"Hans, go home," Frade ordered.

The car turned around and changed direction. Frade held me tight in his arms. We were silent the whole way. I thought someone would call my cell phone, but they didn't.

When I got home, I took a shower and leaned back in bed with my ipad. I hesitated for a second before clicking on Twitter. When the page opened, I held my breath. I thought I'd see a video of Margaret jumping off a building, but I didn't.

So I searched for news about Margaret, and to my surprise, all the news about Margaret was deleted, including the video of her having sex in a nightclub.

Even weirder, all of Margaret's social media accounts have been cancelled, and she has completely disappeared from the web.

"What are you looking at?" Frade wipes the water off his head with a towel and stares curiously at the ipad in my hand.

"I thought the press was going to publish that Margaret just jumped off a building." I put the iPad next to my bed. "But I didn't see anything about her."

"I guessed it" Frade said, throwing the towel on the chair. "I called Ian right after I called the hospital. I think he stopped the media."

"Why do you have Ian's number?" I asked curiously, as I had no impression that he and Ian had anything to do with each other.

"It was your father," Frade said. "Mickle reached out to me personally. He told me to call Ian if we got into trouble. He'd come out and help me out."

"It seems that your relationship is unusual," I said, examining him. "Do you and Mickle see each other often in private?"

"Don't look at me like that," Frade said, pinching my cheek. "He's just trying to get some support through me. To deal with him, I have to be friendly. That's how I get out of the country."

"I'm worried about Margaret." I looked at him worriedly. "Is she going to die?"

"Maybe," Frade said. "But you have to act like you don't know anything, and you can't call Ian or Mickle or anyone else unless they contact you."

"Do you think Mickle will let Ian contact me?"

"Who knows?" Frade said. "Maybe tomorrow Ian will tell you about Margaret. You're family, no matter what. I'm sure he won't hide it from you."

As soon as Frade's voice dropped, my cell phone rang. It was, of course, Ian.

"Hi, this is Eva," I said, pretending to be calm.

"This is Ian." His voice was low and sad. "I have some sad news for you."

"What?" I lowered my voice.

"Margaret jumped off the building."

"Is she okay?" I held my breath.

"They're doing everything they can, but I'm afraid she'll be in a vegetative state." Ian paused for a few seconds. "Your father is in a bad mood."

I was silent for a few seconds. "What can I do for him?"

"Margaret was supposed to accompany him to a voter-friendly event in California next week, but now it seems she won't be able to attend at all."

I gripped the phone tightly. Ian's next words weren't exactly what I'd expected. I thought he'd want me to say something comforting to Mickle at this point, and his words made my scalp tingle.

"I think you should take Margaret's place at all campaign-related events," Ian said.

"I can't replace Margaret," I said firmly. "And he has Mia!"

At this point, all he cares about is his future presidency. Mickle is colder than I thought, which is probably why the Democrats are supporting him.

"But you're the perfect one for the job," Ian said, "We've done our research and you're the most popular of the three. Almost every time you go to an event, your father's approval rating goes up. The voters love you, and there's no question about that."

That's why he chose me because I'm his most valuable asset.

"And what do I get?" I said, "If that's the deal."

"What do you want?" Ian asked.

"I need him to set up a meeting with a union representative," I said of Joan's request. "I won't do the job that isn't mine unless he agrees to it."

"He's your father," Ian reminded me. "And in our previous agreement, you promised to cooperate with his campaign."

"I did what I had to do," I retorted. "And there's nothing for me to do in the upcoming campaign. We checked the schedule, remember?"

The deal I signed with Ian included a list of campaign events and a timeline, and if I remember correctly, tonight's dinner was the last event they'd give me.

"Well, I'll pass your request along to Mr Blanton," Ian said. "Wait for my call."

Ten minutes later, Ian called back to tell me that Mickle had agreed to set up an interview with a union representative after next week's event.

"But you have to finish Margaret's work," Ian said, taking advantage of the situation. "Until the election results are announced."

"Don't you think that's unfair for a pregnant woman?" I said. "My due date is coming up."

"Don't worry, Eva, we'll have a paramedic with you at all times, and we'll make sure your baby has the best medical care when he's born," Ian said, "I'll send a new schedule to your email tomorrow. Good night, Eva."

I feel tired after hanging up the phone. Frade sits on the edge of the bed massaging my legs, and I can't help but think about what happened to Margaret tonight.

"Why do you think Margaret jumped?" I asked.

"Who knows?" Frade said with understatement. "Or maybe she was provoked."

Those photos of her at the club?

Mia?

"I have to call Liv," I said, picking up my phone and dialling Liv's number.

"You picked a hell of a time," Liv said over the phone. "Isn't Frade sleeping next to you tonight?"

"I need your help," I said. "Find out who released Margaret's picture."

"The future president's daughter?" Liv quipped. "I saw her better on a forum. Do you want to see it?"

"I'm not interested," I said. "You just have to help me find the source of the distribution."

"I'll give you an answer tomorrow," Liv said and hung up.

Frade looked at me helplessly. "Honey, don't you think you'll get into more trouble if you meddle too much?"

"My troubles never stop." I smiled wryly.