Chapter 4 - Documentation
Mark lowered his voice.
“I want their room numbers.”
Lauren answered, “They are not here.”
The words struck him.
Not here.
He stared through the glass at the incubators.
None of them belonged to him.
None of them had his last name visible.
None of them answered to his anger.
“What do you mean not here?”
Naomi looked down at the sealed envelope.
Mark saw.
“You transferred them.”
No one answered.
His breathing changed.
“You transferred my children without my consent?”
Lauren said, “Your children required care. Consent was handled through the available legal parent.”
“I am their father.”
“You were unreachable.”
“My phone died!”
Naomi finally lost the last of her restraint.
“For four days, Mark?”
Her voice stayed low.
That made the force of it worse.
“For four days your wife lay in this hospital asking whether the babies had survived. For four days your son needed help breathing. For four days your daughters were in incubators under lights and wires and monitors. For four days staff called you, your office, your assistant, your hotel, every emergency number we had. And you walk in here with a gift bag?”
Mark looked toward the pastel bag.
The stuffed elephant had fallen completely sideways.
He looked back at Naomi.
“I had no idea.”
Lauren’s voice was soft.
“That is not a defense. It is the problem.”
He raised the dark phone.
“It was off.”
Naomi looked at him.
“Where were you?”
The corridor went still again.
Mark’s eyes narrowed.
“That is none of your business.”
Lauren glanced at Naomi.
Naomi looked down at the envelope.
Mark saw the glance.
Again.
The envelope had become the center of the room.
“What is in that?”
Naomi held it tighter.
“Something Emily left.”
His eyes sharpened.
“For me?”
“No.”
That frightened him.
A thing not meant for him.
A decision not routed through him.
A document he could not claim by husbandhood.
Mark stepped forward.
Naomi stepped back.
Lauren moved between them.
“You need to leave this corridor.”
“I am not leaving without answers.”
Lauren’s eyes did not blink.
“Then sit in the waiting area and wait for hospital administration.”
Mark laughed.
“Do you know who funds the east wing?”
Naomi stared at him.
“Not you.”
His jaw tightened.
“Carter Development built half the outpatient expansion.”
“Your company submitted inflated bids on half the outpatient expansion,” Naomi said quietly.
Mark went still.
That was not supposed to be said in a hospital hallway.
Not by his sister.
Not in front of staff.
Lauren looked at Naomi, surprised.
Mark’s face darkened.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Naomi’s eyes flicked to the envelope.
“I know enough.”
He understood then that the envelope might not be medical.
His anger shifted into calculation.
“Where is Emily?”
Lauren answered again.
“She left four days ago.”
“She had surgery.”
“She was discharged with appropriate medical supervision.”
“She has no money without me.”
Naomi’s expression turned cold.
“She had more than you thought.”
Mark looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should have paid attention to your wife before she became a patient.”
He stepped closer.
“Naomi.”
She did not move.
“You always hated me.”
“No,” she said. “I excused you longer than I should have because our father trained both of us to confuse success with character.”
That sentence landed.
Mark’s face twitched.
“Do not bring Dad into this.”
“Why? He built you.”
Lauren watched them with an expression that said she was learning more than she wanted but less than she already suspected.
Mark turned toward the empty maternity room again.
The tiny bracelet still hung from the gurney rail.
He walked to it slowly.
No one stopped him at first.
He reached for the bracelet.
Lauren’s voice stopped him.
“Don’t touch that.”
His hand froze an inch away.
“It belongs to my child.”
“It belongs to the hospital record until properly released.”
He looked back.
“You people are insane.”
Naomi said, “No. We are documenting.”
That word changed his face.
May you like
Documenting.
Men like Mark fear emotion only when it becomes paperwork.
