Chapter 3 - The Broken Seal
Sophia didn't wait for Julian’s permission.
She grabbed Toby’s small, cold hand, turning her back on the wedding reception.
“Sophia! Get back inside this building!” Julian roared behind her.
“The board members are watching!”
“You walk away from this door and you forfeit your marriage trust!”
Sophia didn't even turn her head.
“Keep your money, Julian,” she called out into the rain.
She flagged down a yellow cab waiting at the corner of 5th Avenue.
The driver hesitated, looking at her gold dress and the filthy street child.
Sophia ripped a diamond earring from her lobe and tossed it onto the front passenger seat.
“Drive to St. Jude River Hospice,” she commanded, pulling Toby into the rear bench.
“Run every red light.”
The cab surged forward into the slick Manhattan traffic.
Toby sat huddled against the door, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Sophia wrapped her silk evening stole around his bony shoulders.
“Are you cold, baby?” she asked gently, wiping soot from his temple with her sleeve.
“I’m okay,” Toby whispered, looking down at his cracked fingernails.
“Martha said you would have warm eyes.”
“She said your eyes looked like mine.”
Sophia swallowed down a wave of burning tears, holding his hand tight.
“How long have you lived with Martha, Toby?”
“Two years,” he answered softly.
“Before that, I lived in a basement behind the train depot with an old man.”
“The old man said I was a ghost who wasn't supposed to have a name.”
Sophia’s chest tightened until she could barely drag air into her lungs.
Eight years of birthday cakes she never baked.
Eight years of nursery rhymes she never sang.
Her husband had lived in luxury penthouses while their flesh and blood ate scraps behind train tracks.
Twenty minutes later, the cab screeched to a halt outside a dilapidated brick facility on the East River.
The neon sign flickered: ST. JUDE EXTENDED CARE.
Rain was pouring now, drumming against the rusted fire escapes.
Sophia rushed through the sliding front doors, dragging her soaked gold train behind her.
The night nurse behind the reception counter gasped at the sight of the disheveled bride.
“Room 104,” Sophia demanded, holding up the brass key.
“Where is Martha Cole?”
The nurse’s face drained of color.
“Room 104?” the nurse whispered, backing away from the counter.
May you like
“Two men in suits just went up the service elevator with a gurney.”
Who was on that service elevator, and what were they carrying down to the incinerator?
