Chapter 6 - The Hospital That Had No Record of My Mother|
St. Catherine's Residential Medical Center stood behind iron gates on a wooded estate two hours north of Manhattan.
From the road, it looked peaceful.
Beautiful, even.
Redbrick buildings.
White columns.
Perfectly trimmed hedges.
The kind of place wealthy families used when they wanted difficult problems handled quietly.
I stared through the car window.
For twelve years, I had imagined my mother beneath a gravestone.
Now I was standing outside a building that might have held her all along.
Nico sat beside me.
"You don't have to go inside."
I looked at him.
"Yes, I do."
He studied my face.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
We weren't alone.
Nico had brought his attorney, Rebecca Sloan, who had contacted the facility in advance.
She explained that we were seeking information about a possible patient and that the center could not disclose private medical records without proper authorization.
I understood.
But understanding didn't make waiting easier.
Inside, the administrator greeted us with a polished smile.
"Mr. Ferrara. Ms. Ashford. I'm Daniel Reeves."
He shook Nico's hand.
Then looked at me.
For a fraction of a second, his expression changed.
Recognition.
He knew who I was.
"How can I help you?"
Rebecca stepped forward.
"We're trying to establish whether Eleanor Whitmore Ashford has received care here."
Reeves's smile tightened.
"I'm afraid I can't confirm or deny a patient's presence without appropriate authorization."
"Of course," Rebecca said. "We're also seeking to preserve relevant records because there may be an active legal dispute concerning her identity and estate."
Reeves nodded.
"Please send the request through our legal department."
I watched his face.
Then asked quietly, "Do you know my mother?"
He turned toward me.
"I'm sorry?"
"Her name is Eleanor."
The administrator adjusted his tie.
"I understand."
"She's been missing for twelve years."
His smile disappeared.
"I truly am sorry."
I stepped closer.
"Please. I was twelve when she disappeared. I just want to know whether she's alive."
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes.
Pity.
Or fear.
Then he said, "You'll need to speak with our legal team."
I felt tears burning.
Nico placed a hand lightly against my back.
Not pushing.
Just reminding me he was there.
We left without an answer.
I expected Nico to be angry.
Instead, he looked thoughtful.
"He recognized you," he said.
I turned.
"You saw that?"
"Yes."
Rebecca joined us.
"He may know something, but the hospital's privacy obligations are real. We should proceed through legal channels."
I stared at the building.
"What if my father moves her before we can do anything?"
Rebecca's expression grew serious.
"If we have credible evidence that someone is being unlawfully confined or that records have been falsified, authorities can investigate. We need to give them what we have."
As we approached the car, an elderly woman in a pale-blue nursing uniform stepped outside.
She looked toward us.
Then quickly away.
Something about her expression caught my attention.
She walked toward the parking lot.
Stopped beside our vehicle.
And dropped a folded piece of paper near the rear tire.
Then continued without looking back.
I stared.
Nico noticed.
Matteo retrieved the paper after she had gone.
Inside were six handwritten words.
SHE KNOWS YOU'RE COMING. ROOM 317.
My knees weakened.
"She?"
Nico read the note.
Then looked toward the building.
The third floor.
Room 317.
My mother.
I began moving toward the entrance.
Nico caught up beside me.
"Nora, wait."
I turned.
"She's there!"
"Maybe. But we don't know who wrote that note or why."
"I can't just leave!"
"I know."
His voice softened.
"But if someone wants to lure us into doing something reckless, we could make things worse for her."
I hated that he was right.
We returned to Manhattan.
Rebecca immediately contacted investigators who were already examining Edmund's financial dealings.
The note became part of the evidence.
So did the payment records.
And the photograph showing my mother alive after her funeral.
By evening, authorities had begun making formal inquiries.
I sat in Nico's kitchen, staring at the clock.
He placed a bowl of soup in front of me.
"Eat."
I looked up sharply.
His expression changed.
"Sorry."
He pulled out a chair.
"Would you try a little? You haven't eaten since breakfast."
I managed a weak smile.
"You're learning."
"So I've been told."
I took a spoonful.
Then another.
For the first time all day, my hands stopped shaking.
At nine thirty, Rebecca called.
Nico answered on speaker.
"We've located an old admission record connected to Eleanor's identity."
My heart stopped.
"She's there?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"The record indicates that a woman using your mother's name was admitted twelve years ago."
I pressed a hand against my mouth.
"Is she alive?"
"We don't have confirmation yet."
I closed my eyes.
Rebecca continued.
"There's a complication."
Nico leaned forward.
"What kind?"
"The admission paperwork lists Edmund Ashford as the person authorized to make major decisions about her care."
I felt sick.
"How?"
"According to the documents, Eleanor was declared unable to manage her affairs following a severe psychological crisis."
I shook my head.
"No."
Rebecca continued carefully.
"The legal basis for that designation needs to be reviewed."
I stared at Nico.
"My father made everyone believe she was dead."
"That's what we're investigating."
"He told me she'd been killed in a car accident!"
Tears spilled down my face.
Nico took my hand.
Rebecca's voice softened.
"Nora, there's one more thing."
I looked toward the phone.
"The record includes a photograph of the admitted patient."
My breath stopped.
"And?"
"It's your mother."
For twelve years, I had mourned a woman who might have been only two hours away.
I began sobbing.
Then Rebecca spoke again.
"But before you go back there, you need to know something else."
The line crackled.
"Your father has filed an emergency petition claiming that you're mentally incapable of making decisions for yourself."
I froze.
Rebecca continued.
"He's asking a court to place you under his control."
The soup spoon slipped from my hand.
And suddenly, I understood why Edmund had come to Nico's mansion on our wedding night.
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He wasn't just afraid I would tell the truth.
He was afraid I would finally become legally free enough to prove it.
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