Page 216 of Cashmere Cruelty

“Where is April Flowers?!”

Thankfully, Dr. Allan recognizes me. “Nice of you to show up at last, Mr. Groza.”

I have no bandwidth for her sarcasm, for the contempt I can so clearly hear in her words. A year ago, I would’ve made her pay for the insolence.

Now, I only care about one thing.

“Show me where she is.”

As we walk towards her room, a thousand things flood my mind. A thousand things I want to say to her.

I’m sorry.

I should’ve been here.

I don’t love Petra. I never have.

I don’twantPetra. I never have.

I don’t want anyone else—I meant it then, and I mean it now. It’s you I want. It’s you I?—

“What…?”

Dr. Allan’s voice shakes me out of my head. I look up to the source of her confusion?—

And I see it.

April’s bed: empty.

“She signed herself out,” Dr. Allan murmurs, staring dumbly at the discharge papers on the bedside table. “Who the helllet my patient sign herself out?!” Residents scatter like flies at the sound of her screech.

But I barely see any of that.

All I can see is the blood on the sheets.

“Where is she?” I mutter. Then, louder: “Where ismy child?!”

But one look at Dr. Allan’s face tells me all I need to know.

April’s gone—and my child is gone, too.

I rush to the penthouse without a second thought.

Maybe she went home, I tell myself as I mash the elevator buttons into a pulp.Maybe she didn’t want to be among strangers. Maybe?—

When I throw the door open, my heart sinks.

April’s stuff is gone. Not everything—but a few changes of clothes, toiletries, the essentials. Our child’s belongings.

Everything she’d need to run.

Missing clothes, missing items. A missing partner, a missing child.

It’s my worst nightmare and I didn’t even know it. And now, I’m living it.

“Fuck,” I snarl, clenching my fists until my knuckles are see-through. “Fuck, fuck,fuck!”

Then I see the envelope on the table.

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