I went to the intensive care unit at St. Thomas Hospital. Through the glass, I saw Leon lying in bed.
An oxygen tube ran beneath his nose, and IV needles covered the back of his hand. His face was utterly bloodless. Pain had stripped all life from the arrogant Wall Street executive he had once been.
I stood there without the slightest stir of emotion. If anything, the sight of him felt like a bad omen.
I turned to leave the hospital.
I had taken only two steps when a nurse opened the door behind me, and Leon's weak, rasping voice drifted from the room.
"Claire... don't go..."
I stopped, turned, and entered the room. Standing at the foot of his bed, I looked down at him.
Leon opened his eyes with effort. The instant he saw the ice in my gaze, his eyes reddened.
"Do you hate me that
