I called my driver, Alex—then remembered he’d phoned in sick. So I took my red Mercedes and drove myself, imagining Megan’s face lighting up when she saw me. I even planned to call Daniel later and tell him how kind his wife was being. I could already hear his praise.
By five, I arrived at the parking lot of an elite private hospital in Segovia. Megan had said she was in VIP room 305.
VIP.
That alone made me blink. Megan didn’t work. How was she paying for a suite like that? But optimism quickly patched over my suspicion. Maybe she had savings. And if not—fine. I’d cover it.
Fruit basket in hand, I walked through corridors that smelled of antiseptic, though everything still felt polished and expensive. My footsteps echoed against marble. My heart wasn’t afraid—it was eager.
The elevator chimed on the third floor. I found room 305 at the far end of a quiet hallway, slightly isolated. And when I got close, I noticed the door wasn’t fully shut—just barely open.
I lifted a hand to knock… then froze.
Laughter drifted out.
And a man’s voice—warm, teasing, painfully familiar—stopped my blood mid-flow.
“Open your mouth, darling. Here comes the little airplane…”