Until that night.
The elevator doors opened. Maria stepped in alone. Without thinking, Andrew slipped his arm between the doors and entered. They rode down in silence, not looking at each other. He felt strangely uncomfortable—like he was intruding into a space that wasn’t his.
Outside, Maria didn’t call a ride. Didn’t check her phone. Didn’t stop for food.
She walked.
Across wide avenues. Around dark corners. Holding her purse tight against her body, as if protecting something fragile.
Andrew got into his car—but didn’t start the engine right away. He watched her disappear around a corner.
And then something he couldn’t explain happened.
He followed her.
It wasn’t curiosity. It wasn’t suspicion.
It was a strange, irrational feeling that this woman was carrying a burden heavier than all his millions combined.
He kept his distance. Parked far away. Walked several steps behind her.
Maria never turned around.
She crossed a street as the traffic light blinked yellow, passed a closing food stand, walked by a dark park—and finally stopped in front of a public hospital.
The sign glowed faintly:
County General Hospital.