I called my driver, José, and then remembered that I had called to say I was sick. So I took my red Mercedes and drove myself, imagining Laura’s face lighting up when she saw me.
I even planned to call Ricardo later and tell him what a wonderful wife he was. I could already hear him congratulating me.
At five o’clock I arrived at the parking lot of an elegant private hospital in Segovia. Laura had told me she was in VIP suite 305.
VIP.
That alone made me hesitate. Laura didn’t work. How could she afford a room like that? But my optimism quickly dispelled my suspicions. Perhaps she had savings. And if not, it didn’t matter. I would pay.
With the fruit basket in my hand, I walked through aisles that smelled of antiseptic, although everything looked immaculate and expensive. My footsteps echoed on the marble.
My heart wasn’t afraid, but anxious.
The elevator rang on the third floor. I found room 305 at the end of a quiet, somewhat secluded hallway. As I approached, I noticed the door wasn’t completely closed, just ajar.
I raised my hand to call… and I froze.
A laugh came from inside.
