The Day He Let Me Go, I Let Him Go Forever
As soon as I walked out of the hospital, I saw Daniel leaning against a black sedan, waiting for me.
"Get in," he said.
"I'll just take a cab."
"Get in."
His tone carried a threat, leaving no room for refusal.
I looked at his cold, hard expression and, in the end, got into the car.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
Daniel started the engine. "To clear your head. You've been cooped up in the hospital too long."
Half an hour later, the car pulled up outside Whitman's Auction House in the financial district.