Chapter 4
Andrew stormed through the sliding glass doors of the hospital lobby, the sharp clack of his dress shoes echoing aggressively against the polished floor.
He marched directly up to the main nurse's station, drumming his fingers impatiently on the high counter.
"Pull up the room number for Claire Simmons' mother. Now," he ordered.
The nurse scrolled through the records in silence. After a few seconds, she glanced up with a neutral expression.
"You mean Monica Simmons? Sir, she's no longer a patient here. She passed away," she said.
"What?" Andrew yelled as his eyes widened, his arrogant facade cracking instantly. "Say that again?"
Assuming he was hard of hearing, the nurse repeated herself, her brow furrowing in slight confusion.
She said, "Ms. Monica Simmons passed away three years ago, sir.
"Are you family? How could you not be aware of this?"
Andrew slammed his open palm against the counter, the loud smack drawing every eye in the lobby.
"That's impossible. She's been receiving continuous treatment here. Your system is wrong. Run the name again," he shouted.
The nurse's demeanor hardened instantly, her tone shifting from polite to authoritative.
"Sir, I need you to lower your voice and calm down," she said firmly. "There is no mistake. Monica's death certificate is right here in the system. She suffered a massive, fatal heart attack three years ago. The resuscitation efforts failed.
"There is an official police report attached to the file. If you don't believe me, you are welcome to take it up with the precinct."
As the nurse continued her steady explanation, Andrew's restraint vanished.
"Bullshit," he roared. "I have been wiring hundreds of thousands of dollars into her medical account every single month. How the hell could she have been dead for three years?"
He thought it couldn't be true.
It was possible, of course. The reason lay with his beloved childhood sweetheart, the one person he trusted above all else. Tina had been the one personally managing the medical bills. She brought him the invoices every month.
The nurse, visibly taken aback by his explosive outburst, quickly clicked over to the billing tab. Her frown deepened into a severe scowl.
She replied, "Sir, this account was closed three years ago. There haven't been any deposits made to this hospital since the day she died."
Andrew froze, his face turning deathly pale in an instant.
"No. No, that can't be right. Tina told me..." he said.
Hearing the commotion, an older attending physician walked over from the hallway, frowning. "Is there a problem here?"
"This gentleman is asking to see Monica Simmons," the nurse explained quietly. "I informed him that she passed away three years ago."
The doctor adjusted his glasses, looking at Andrew with a mixture of suspicion and pity.
"Are you a relative of the deceased?" he asked.
Andrew's chest rose and fell violently as his fists clenched tight, his nails biting deep into his own skin.
"Her daughter married me. She was supposed to be receiving round-the-clock care here! And you people are telling me she's dead? What kind of sick joke is this?" Andrew yelled.
Seeing the genuine shock radiating from Andrew, the doctor sighed softly, his posture relaxing.
He continued, "Sir, please, take a breath. I can see you're deeply upset, but I was the attending on call that day. I remember it vividly.
"A group of violent debt collectors managed to bypass security and barged directly into her ICU room. They were screaming, throwing medical equipment, and threatening the poor woman. The sheer terror caused her to go into immediate cardiac arrest. We couldn't get her back."
A few of nurses standing nearby nodded grimly in confirmation.
"It was a complete nightmare. We had to call the police to drag them out.
"Monica was such a sweet woman. It was a horrific way to go."
The nurse hesitated for a moment, her eyes softening with sympathy, before she added the final nail in the coffin. "And... sir... right before she lost consciousness, she kept crying out for her daughter. She kept asking why her daughter never came to say goodbye."
Shocked, Andrew actually staggered backward, his hand flying out to grip the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing.
He suddenly remembered three years ago when Tina had insisted with absolute certainty.
"Don't worry about a thing, Andrew. I will personally oversee Claire's mother's medical fund. I'll make sure every single cent goes exactly where it needs to go. I promise," she had said.
He remembered how, every single month without fail, Tina would walk into his home office holding a stack of hospital invoices, claiming the treatments were becoming more advanced. And every month, the number on the bottom line grew larger.
He remembered that he had never once driven to the hospital to check on Monica himself.
He hated hospitals. He thought they were depressing and filthy. But mostly, he hated anything and everything that reminded him of me.
And then, another memory surfaced. He remembered the night I signed the debt transfer papers.
I had looked up at him, pleading, "Andrew, I'll take the debt. I'll pay it back. But please, promise me you won't cut off my mother's treatments. Promise me you'll keep her safe."
How had he responded?
He remembered sneering at me. He remembered yanking his hand away from mine in disgust.
He said, "That entirely depends on how well you behave."
The truth that my mother was already dead finally crushed Andrew.
She had been dead the entire time.
The leverage he used to control me disappeared.