The Seventh Letter

Chapter 3

The next morning, Robert left for the office.

A black Maybach was parked outside the building, right on time.

David Kent, the driver, opened the door for me. His manner was impeccable. "Ms. Taylor, Mr. Hall has asked me to accompany you wherever you go today."

"Thank you, David." I settled into the back seat.

The car glided toward the old quarter.

I watched the streets scroll past the window, my phone clutched tight in my hand.

The record shop was right where it had always been. Only the sign above the door had faded.

I pushed the door open. A small bell chimed overhead.

The owner was an elderly man in wire-rimmed glasses, polishing a record behind the counter. "Have a look around." He didn't glance up.

I moved through row after row of old records. David trailed exactly two steps behind me, never closer, never farther.

I stopped in the classical section, in front of a Tchaikovsky vinyl.

"David." I turned around. "Would you mind running to the coffee shop on the corner and getting me an Americano? I could use the caffeine."

David hesitated. "Mr. Hall said..."

"I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere." I cut him off. My tone left no room for negotiation.

David glanced around the enclosed shop, then finally nodded. "Of course. Just a moment, Ms. Taylor."

The instant he stepped out the front door, I turned and walked toward the back of the shop.

I pushed through the rear exit into a narrow alley.

I moved quickly down the passage and flagged a cab. "St. Mary's Private Hospital."

*****

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the office of Dr. Neil Harrison.

He had been Torrin's attending physician.

When he saw me, Harrison looked surprised. "Ms. Taylor? What brings you here?"

"I need to know about Torrin." I didn't waste time.

Harrison sighed and removed his glasses. "Six years ago, Mr. Grey's passing was... extremely painful. He could have opted for palliative care. It would have given him at least another six months. He refused."

I felt an invisible hand close around my heart and squeeze. "Why?"

"The funding was cut." Harrison looked at me. "The company accounts were frozen across the board. All of his specialized medications were stopped. If I remember correctly, it was Mr. Hall who came in with a power of attorney under your name to process the treatment termination. He said it was your decision. That you didn't want to keep wasting money on a dying man."

"What else did he say?"

"Mr. Hall said that Mr. Grey's existence would only hold you back." Harrison shook his head. "In his final days, Mr. Grey couldn't even afford the pain pump. He was awake through the night, every night, in agony. But he wouldn't let us contact you. He said you were still angry. That you didn't want to see him."

I closed my eyes. The tears I had been holding back finally broke free and hit the back of my hand.

Six years ago, that winter. I had stood in a mediation room at the courthouse and screamed at Torrin.

I called him heartless. I accused him of abandoning me for money.

In the end, I pulled off my wedding ring and threw it on the table.

Torrin just sat there, perfectly still, his face drained of color. He looked at the ring and spoke in a voice so quiet it could have been the wind.

"When you stop hating me, then decide whether you want to throw that away."

By then, his brain had already been riddled with tumors.

And I, soothed by Robert's steady hand, had signed the divorce papers.

"Thank you, Dr. Harrison." I stood and offered him a formal nod of gratitude.

*****

As I left the hospital, my phone was buzzing relentlessly.

It was Robert.

I took a deep breath and answered.

"Vivian, where did you go?" His voice was still gentle, but threaded with something tight and barely detectable. "David said you disappeared."

"I'm at the bookstore across the street." I glanced at a shop sign on the corner, my voice perfectly calm. "The record shop was stuffy. I needed some air."

Two seconds of silence on the other end.

"Alright then." Robert let out a small laugh. "I thought you'd gotten lost. Stay where you are. I'll have David come pick you up."

"Okay." I hung up.

I walked to the bookstore entrance and watched David Kent jog toward me, looking visibly shaken.

"Ms. Taylor, you scared me half to death."

I gave a small smile. "Let's go. Take me home."