The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8 - Sex Stories

The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8

... face-to-face. 'Jim, tried to call you but no answer. Here’s what’s going on as of right now. - Broken tibia (shin bone) but no damage to arteries or nerves. She will need surgery to reset the bone, metal pins to hold together, 6-8 weeks recovery. - Fractured tibia plateau (knee) non-displaced so no surgery needed. 3 months recovery of not putting weight on it. - Fractured rib. Ice packs, rest. 6 weeks recovery. - Concussion. No swelling or bruising of the brain. Continued monitoring. - Minor lacerations, nothing major. I have authorized the surgery for her leg. She is scheduled for first thing in the morning. She’s currently sedated, was very confused when she arrived and they worried she would hurt herself. I’ll try to reach you tomorrow after surgery.' I send the text then grab the cup of coffee as I head towards the hallway to return to Emily’s room. “You’re lucky the girl is going to live.” I pause in the hallway. The voices are coming from behind me; the direction the officers had gone. Something inside of me tells me they are talking about Emily. It is just a feeling but I trust my gut. Quietly I turn and walk soundlessly towards the direction of voices. “She’s the one who walked out in the middle of the road! I’ve told you over and over, I’m innocent!” “Maybe she did. Seventeen year olds aren’t the smartest after all. We’re checking the tape from a traffic camera right now. But you are far from innocent, Henry. Your blood alcohol content was .15, nearly double the ...

... legal limit. Either way you’re not leaving this hospital alone.” The distinctive jingle of handcuffs followed by the ratcheting noise of them being placed around a wrist can be heard. Immediately following this is the sound of metal on metal as one of the cops fixes the other end of the cuff to what I imagine is the hospital bed. “Hey! This is bullshit! I only had two drinks!” Both cops laugh. “That’s what they all say, buddy.” I jump as hot liquid runs down my arm. I clench my teeth together while grimacing to keep myself from making any noise. Looking down at my hand I see the coffee cup I was carrying now compressed in half inside of my fist resembling a distorted hourglass. Coffee drips off my arm and collects in small puddles against the white tile of the hospital floor. I take the cup in my other hand to shake off some of the liquid. Anger boils inside of me. I stare towards Henry’s room, burning the room number into my memory. That fucking bastard is going to pay. As much as I want to just walk in there and beat the ever living shit out of him, common sense interjects and I restrain myself from any action. Besides, he’s not going anywhere for a while; I have time. I take a few deep breaths before turning away. There’s a trash can nearby that I deposit the mangled cup into. Then I try to focus my thoughts back on Emily as I take up my seat next to her bed again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Sir?” Someone shakes my shoulder ...