Chapter 2 - THE CAMERA IN ROOM 1108
I woke with twelve stitches above my right ear.
My head was wrapped in white gauze.
A neurological monitor had been attached to my chest, and a uniformed police officer stood outside my door.
For several seconds, I did not remember why.
Then I saw the empty wall mount where the blood pressure monitor had been.
Everything returned at once.
My mother’s face.
The machine above her head.
My father blocking the door.
Connor watching.
I turned away and vomited into a plastic basin.
Nurse Elena Brooks rushed to my side.
She held my shoulders until the shaking stopped.
“They are gone,” she said.
“Your mother is in police custody.”
“Your father and brother are being questioned.”
I touched the bandage above my ear.
“The camera.”
Elena looked toward the upper corner of the room.
“You remembered.”
“Was it recording?”
“Yes.”
Three days earlier, hospital risk management had installed the temporary patient-safety camera after my mother attempted to access my medical records without permission.
She had cornered a nurse near the elevators and demanded to know whether I was mentally capable of controlling my finances.
When the nurse refused, Evelyn had threatened to report the entire hospital.
I had not taken the incident seriously.
Elena had.
She requested the camera and gave me a silent emergency button.
I had signed the consent form during dialysis.
My mother knew nothing about it.
Neither did my father or Connor.
“The footage is secure,” Elena said.
“Hospital security made three copies before the police arrived.”
A woman in a dark blue suit entered the room.
She introduced herself as Detective Lena Ortiz.
She placed a recorder on the table but did not turn it on immediately.
“I watched the footage,” she said.
Her voice was controlled, but anger tightened every word.
“Your mother struck you with a medical device.”
“Your father deliberately blocked the door.”
“Your brother witnessed everything.”
I swallowed.
“Are they saying I attacked her?”
“Your mother says you became violent after refusing to help your brother.”
“My father says the machine fell accidentally.”
“And Connor?”
Detective Ortiz hesitated.
“He says he does not remember.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“He remembers every password to my credit cards.”
“But he cannot remember his mother smashing a machine into my head.”
Ortiz opened the folder they had recovered from the bed.
“Do you recognize these documents?”
“They wanted my savings.”
“These are not ordinary transfer forms.”
She pointed to a page bearing my name.
“They include a durable financial power of attorney.”
My pulse quickened.
“I never agreed to that.”
“There is also a physician declaration stating you are mentally incapacitated.”
“I have never seen it.”
“The physician’s signature appears questionable.”
I stared at the papers.
My mother had not simply come to ask for money.
She had come prepared to take control of everything.
Detective Ortiz turned on the recorder.
“Maya, I need you to tell me how long your family has had access to your finances.”
May you like
The real answer frightened me.
“Most of my adult life.”
