Chapter 6: She Came to the Hospital
I was back at the hospital that afternoon when the nurse at the front desk called my name.
"There's a woman asking to see your son," she said.
"She says she's family."
I set down the cup of water I was holding.
"What's her name?"
"Calloway.
Serena Calloway."
I walked to the entrance.
Serena was standing near the reception desk in a cream-colored coat, her hair pulled back, looking exactly as she always looked — composed, unhurried, as if she had every right to be wherever she happened to be standing.
She saw me and smiled.
"Victor.
I just wanted to check on Ethan.
I've been worried sick."
"You're not allowed to be here," I said.
"There's a protective order.
You were served this morning."
"I haven't received anything."
"Your attorney has."
The smile stayed.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding about what that order covers.
I'm not here to cause any trouble.
I'm here because I care about that little boy."
"You fractured his arm."
"That is an allegation," she said.
"Not a fact.
And I think when everything comes out, people are going to see a very different picture.
A father who was barely home.
A nanny with a grudge.
And a woman who was doing her best in a difficult situation."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"You forged Diane Marsh's signature on a reference letter."
The smile didn't move.
But something behind it did.
A small, fast recalibration.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Diane Marsh does.
She's already spoken to my attorney."
Serena was quiet for exactly three seconds.
"Diane Marsh is a troubled woman who had a very difficult time after her son was born.
I'm sorry she's been dragged into this."
"She called me," I said.
"You didn't drag her anywhere.
She came forward on her own."
"Victor." Her voice dropped.
Softer now.
The version she used when she wanted something.
"We don't have to do this.
You're angry.
I understand that.
But Ethan needs stability.
He needs people around him who love him.
Turning this into a legal battle isn't going to help him heal."
"No," I said.
"What's going to help him heal is making sure you're never in the same room as him again."
She looked at me.
The softness left.
"You're going to regret this," she said.
"I know things about you.
About your company.
About decisions you've made that your board of directors would find very interesting."
"Then tell them," I said.
"My attorney's number is on the protective order.
Any communication goes through her."
I turned and walked back toward the elevator.
"I will burn this down," Serena said behind me.
Not loud.
Quiet.
The way people say things they mean.
I pressed the button.
The doors opened.
"Then you'll burn alone," I said.
And stepped inside.
---
Margaret called twenty minutes later.
"She came to the hospital," I said.
"I know.
The nurse filed a report.
It's a violation of the protective order.
I've already notified the court." A pause.
"She also called Lily."
My jaw tightened.
"When?"
"An hour ago.
Lily didn't answer, but she left a voicemail.
She told Lily that she was making a serious mistake and that immigration would be very interested in her work history."
"Lily's documentation is completely in order."
"I know that.
Lily knows that.
But Serena is betting that fear is stronger than facts." Margaret's voice was measured.
"I need you to call Lily tonight.
Not about the case.
Just to check on her.
She's holding together, but she's been carrying this alone for a long time."
"I will."
"One more thing," Margaret said.
"I had a colleague run Serena's background this afternoon.
Full employment history."
"And?"
"She's worked in six households in the past four years.
Three of them have no record of her departure.
No references given, no exit paperwork filed.
Just gone."
Six households.
I thought about the children in each of them.
The ages I didn't know.
The injuries that may or may not have been documented.
"Can we reach any of them?" I said.
"I'm already trying," Margaret said.
"Get some rest, Victor.
Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
I looked at Ethan through the window of his room.
He was asleep.
His arm in its small soft cast.
His chest moving slowly.
May you like
Six households.
I pressed my hand flat against the glass.
