to leave.”
Daniel pushed his chair back.
“I want to see her.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
He stopped.
“Elena.”
“Please.”
He stood there for another second, then sat beside me.
Outside the room, footsteps moved past the door and stopped.
A voice said, “Daniel?”
He looked toward the opening.
It was Vivian.
He started to rise. I reached for his hand.
“Stay here.”
He looked at me, then at the door.
The footsteps came closer.
Then the door opened.
Daniel read the message twice before lowering the phone.
“She says you are using your position to intimidate Mom.”
I looked at the ceiling for a second, then reached for the hospital blanket and pulled it higher over my knees. “Which position?”
He did not answer.
Another message appeared on the screen. He turned the phone face down before I could read it.
“Elena, I should have stopped this long
before today.”
“You said that.”
“I know.”
He picked up the phone again. “Karen says Mom is telling people you are making this bigger because you want control.”
I held out my hand. “Give me the phone.”
Daniel passed it over.
The family message was shorter than I expected. Someone had written that Vivian had only been trying to protect the Sterling family and that my professional connections were making ordinary relatives afraid to speak.
I read it once.
Then I handed the phone back.
“Are you going to answer?”
“No.”
He looked at me. “Not even to correct it?”
“Especially not to correct it.”
Daniel rubbed his wedding ring with his thumb.
I reached for the water cup and took a small drink. “If I answer every accusation, we will have fifty versions by morning.”
He put the phone in his pocket. “What do you want me to do?”
“Print the messages.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because they are part of what happened.”
He started toward the small table near the door, then stopped when his phone lit again.
“Daniel,” I said.
He looked back.
“Do not answer that one.”
He put the phone down.
At 6:15, the police paperwork lay across the tray table beside the hospital visitor form. I had three pages in front of me, and I was straightening their corners into one exact stack.
Daniel watched me from the chair.
“You really are not going to say anything to them?”
“I am going to say what happened.”
“To my family?”
“To whoever needs the record.”
He opened the printer app on his phone. “How many messages?”
“All of them.”
He hesitated. “Even the ones calling you controlling?”
“Especially those.”
The printer in the small room began feeding out sheets. One page slid crookedly into the
tray.
Daniel stood and fixed it.
I took the first page and read the time at the top.
5:07 p.m.
“That one came after the officer took your statement,” I said.
“I know.”
“So print the timestamp too.”
He nodded.
A nurse came in with fresh water and paused when she saw the papers.
“Do you need another folder?”
“Not yet,” I said.
She glanced at the stack. “The administrator may have one available in the morning.”
I looked up. “The administrator?”
“She asked that the access records be ready.”
The nurse left before either of us answered.
Daniel looked toward the door.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone else is keeping a record.”
He picked up another page.
“Should I call your attorney?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not asking for a special favor.”
He lowered the page.
For a few seconds, neither of us
spoke.
Then he said, “I should have known she would keep pushing.”
I slid the printed messages into a clear sleeve.
“Do not guess what she will do next.”
“What should I do?”
“Write down what she already did.”
He nodded.
At 8:30, Daniel was home long enough to collect clothes, his charger, and the twins’ extra blankets. I stayed on the phone while he moved through the kitchen.
“I found the gift basket,” he said.
“Where?”
“Still by the hallway table.”
“Did she take anything from it?”
“No.”
He opened a cabinet.
The basket had been left untouched, with the card still tucked beneath the ribbon.
Daniel picked it up.
“She spent money on all this.”
“Leave it there.”
He set it down.
“Mom bought those little socks.”
“I know.”
“They have ducks on them.”
Despite myself, I smiled. “Leo already has enough socks.”
“Luna has enough too.”
