Laura lived alone in that city, which was so foreign to me. I had always tried to help her. The small house where she lived was part of my property, and I let her stay there rent-free out of compassion.
“Poor Laura,” I murmured. “She must be so lonely.”
I checked the time—two o’clock. My afternoon suddenly opened up, and an idea struck me: why not visit her? Segovia was only a couple of hours away if the traffic was kind. I could surprise her with her favorite stew and a basket of fresh fruit.
I called my driver, José—then I remembered he’d called in 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 a very elegant private hospital in Segovia. Laura had told me I was in VIP suite 305.
