We did not go back to the penthouse after City Hall.
Adrian's driver drove us straight to Mount Sinai Hospital on the Upper East Side - the same hospital where my father died at 3:12 AM and no one told me because my phone was off during the wedding.
The hospital hallway smelled like bleach and sadness. The same smell from when my mother died three years ago.
Adrian's hand never left my waist. His navy suit jacket was now over my shoulders because I was shaking so hard in my thin white wedding dress. The huge diamond ring felt like ice on my finger.
"Julia Carter, family of Esther Carter? No, sorry, family of Robert Carter?" the nurse at the front desk said, checking her computer. "Oh. Oh, Mrs... Mrs. Blackwood?"
She looked at my white dress, then at Adrian, then back at the computer,
