I didn’t watch her crawl. I turned back to my mother, picked up her fallen purse, and started to gather the peppermints from the floor.
“Let’s go, Mom,” I said softly. “I’ve got a better room waiting for you. And a much better nurse.”
But as I wheeled her toward the elevators, I knew this was only the beginning. Brenda wasn’t the only one who had let my mother suffer. And I was going to find every single one of them.
Chapter 2: The Audit
The Presidential Suite on the tenth floor of St. Jude’s didn’t feel like a hospital. There were no linoleum floors that squeaked under rubber soles, no flickering fluorescent lights that gave everyone the complexion of a ghost. Here, the floors were white oak, the air was purified and scented lightly with lavender, and the windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline—a view my mother didn’t even look at.
She sat on the edge of the plush, adjustable bed, her lilac cardigan still clutched tightly around her. The red mark on her cheek had deepened into a dull, angry purple.
I stood by the window, watching the reflection of a young nurse named Maya as she moved quietly around the room. Maya was the one I had seen in the lobby—the one who had tried to help before Brenda snapped at her. I had hand-picked her to be my mother’s primary caregiver five minutes after firing Brenda.
“The ice pack should help with the swelling, Mrs. Miller,” Maya said softly, her voice a soothing balm compared to the jagged glass of Brenda’s tone. “I’ve also brought some warm tea. Earl Grey, just the way the chart says you like it.”
My mother looked up, offering a small, fragile smile. “Thank you, Maya. You’re a very kind girl. I’m sorry about… the scene downstairs. I didn’t mean to cause trouble for anyone.”
“You didn’t cause it, Mom,” I said, turning away from the window. My voice was still tight, the adrenaline of the confrontation replaced by a cold, heavy stone in my stomach. “The people who let this happen caused it. They’re the ones who should be apologizing.”
“Leo, please,” my mother whispered, her eyes pleading. “You’ve done enough. You fired her. Let it go now. I just want to rest.”
I walked over and sat in the leather armchair beside her bed. I wanted to tell her that I couldn’t let it go. I wanted to tell her that I had already instructed my legal team to look into every single grievance filed against Brenda Vance in the last decade. I wanted to tell her that I was planning to dismantle the career of the CEO who had allowed a culture of “profit over patients” to turn this hospital into a hunting ground for the vulnerable.
But I saw the way her hands were still shaking. I saw the exhaustion in the lines around her eyes.
“I’ll let it go for today,” I lied, leaning forward to take her hand. “But you’re staying here. No more bills, no more threats. You’re the boss of this floor now. If you want a five-course meal at three in the morning, you get it. If you want the walls painted blue, they’ll be blue by sunrise.”
She chuckled, a dry, papery sound. “I just want a nap, Leo. And for you to stop looking like you’re ready to go to war.”
I stayed until she drifted off, her breathing finally evening out into the rhythmic pull of deep sleep. I signaled for Maya to follow me out into the hallway.
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