For a while, we sat in silence.
Then my mother asked, “Where is Cameron?”
“Not allowed in.”
“Good.”
“Mom.”
“I am being generous.”
I turned my face toward the window. “It’s complicated.”
“Many terrible things are.”
“He thought I hurt Sophie.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Then it is less complicated.”
I wanted to argue, but the words dissolved.
My mother’s grip tightened.
“Amelia, love does not require you to pretend harm was confusion.”
The sentence landed quietly.
I looked at her.
Her face held no triumph, no I-told-you-so. Only the worn wisdom of someone who had spent a career seeing families at their most frightened and least honest.
“I don’t know what happens next,” I admitted.
“You don’t have to know today.”
That permission loosened something in my chest.
Outside my room, voices rose briefly. A man’s voice, urgent. A woman’s, strained. Then footsteps passed quickly down the hall.
My mother glanced toward the door.
“Hospital drama?”
“In this place? Never.”
She arched a brow.
A minute later, Elena entered without her tablet. That alone told me something had changed.
“Margaret,” she said.
“Elena.”
Their greeting carried years of professional respect and mutual suspicion.
Elena looked at me. “Are you up for hearing something difficult?”
My mother straightened.
I nodded.
Elena closed the door.
“Sophie is missing.”
The room went still.
“Missing?” I repeated.
“She left the hospital shortly after the delivery. She was scheduled to be questioned this morning by the program director and risk management. She did not appear. Her badge was used once at 4:12 a.m. to access the residents’ lounge, then again at 4:27 a.m. to exit through the east stairwell.”
My mind moved through the hospital map automatically.
East stairwell.
Close to the staff parking lot.
Close to the old records corridor.
“Did anyone call her?”
“Several times. Phone goes straight to voicemail.”
My mother’s expression hardened. “Convenient.”
“Very,” Elena said.
I swallowed.
“What about the medication tray?”
Elena’s eyes met mine.
“That is another problem.”
I waited.
“The tray was processed as contaminated waste before anyone secured it.”
“By whom?”
“A night orderly says Sophie told him Dr. Bennett wanted it cleared immediately because you had knocked it over during a sterile procedure.”
I closed my eyes.
Every thread seemed to lead back to her, but none of them explained why she had woven the net in the first place.
