Chapter 7: The Receptionist Who Knew Everything
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The handwritten note lay on the conference table.
The baby was not the only person who left that hospital alive.
I read it again.
Then I looked at Daniel.
“Are you saying Camille survived?””
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know. But the nurse who wrote this was clearly trying to tell someone something.””
Margaret leaned back in her chair.
“Who is Sophie Miller?””
Daniel opened another folder.
“She has worked for Carter Fashion House for six years. Her mother, Patricia Miller, was a registered nurse at St. Agnes Private Recovery Center.””
I stared at the photograph.
Sophie.
The quiet receptionist who had worked in the mansion.
The girl who had once given me a sandwich when Vanessa refused to let me eat dinner with the family.
The girl who never laughed when Brielle mocked my clothes.
“She knows me,” I whispered.
Margaret nodded.
“Then you may be the only person she will agree to speak with.””
I looked at the photograph again.
“I'm going to find her.””
Sophie was working at the Carter mansion when I arrived that afternoon.
She stood behind the reception desk, sorting invitations for the gala.
Her hair was tied in a neat bun.
A small silver necklace rested against her collar.
She looked up when I entered.
“Nia?””
I walked toward her.
“Can we talk?””
Her fingers stopped moving.
“Is something wrong?””
“I need to ask you about your mother.””
Her face went pale.
For a moment, I thought she might run.
Instead, she slowly placed the invitations on the desk.
“Come with me.””
She led me into a small staff office and locked the door.
Then she turned.
“What did you find?””
I stared at her.
“You already know?””
Sophie closed her eyes.
“My mother told me never to discuss anything connected to St. Agnes.””
I felt my heart pounding.
“Did she know Camille Brooks?””
Sophie nodded.
“She was one of the nurses assigned to her room.””
“Did Camille die?””
Sophie looked at the floor.
“My mother never believed she did.””
I stepped closer.
“What?””
“She said Camille was conscious when she was transferred. She kept asking for Elena. She wanted to see her.””
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“Where was she transferred?””
Sophie shook her head.
“My mother never knew the final destination. The transfer paperwork was sealed. Richard Carter and Vanessa Carter signed the authorization.””
“Why didn't your mother report it?””
“She tried.””
Sophie reached into her handbag and removed a folded letter.
“My mother wrote to the hospital director. She requested an investigation. Three days later, she was suspended.””
I opened the letter.
It was dated twenty-two years earlier.
The handwriting was shaky.
I witnessed a patient being removed from our facility while still conscious. The transfer was authorized by individuals who were not listed as medical guardians. I am concerned that the patient was being moved against her wishes.
I looked at Sophie.
“Did your mother keep anything else?””
Sophie nodded.
“She kept a small cassette recorder.””
I frowned.
“A recorder?””
“She was afraid nobody would believe her. She recorded a conversation she overheard between Richard Carter and the hospital administrator.””
My breathing became shallow.
“Do you still have it?””
Sophie reached into a drawer and removed a small plastic case.
Inside was an old cassette tape.
My hands trembled.
“Why didn't you give this to the police?””
“Because my mother received threats. She was told that if she continued investigating, her daughter would lose everything.””
Sophie looked at me.
“I was seventeen. My mother was frightened. I didn't want her to get hurt.””
I gently touched her hand.
“You did what you had to do.””
She shook her head.
“I should have spoken sooner.””
“No. The people responsible should have been afraid of the consequences, not you.””
For the first time, Sophie began crying.
Then she handed me the cassette.
“But there's something you need to know.””
I looked at her.
“My mother believed Camille wasn't the only person Richard was trying to hide that night.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who else?””
Sophie looked directly into my eyes.
“Your mother.””
We took the cassette to Margaret's office.
Daniel arranged for an audio specialist to preserve the recording and create a digital copy.
It took nearly an hour.
When the recording finally began, a man's voice emerged through the speakers.
Richard.
Younger, but unmistakably him.
“I'm not asking you to make a medical decision. I'm asking you to follow the authorization.””
A second male voice answered.
“Mr. Carter, the patient is conscious. She is requesting to see Elena Carter.””
Richard sounded irritated.
“That isn't possible.””
“She's becoming distressed.””
“Then sedate her.””
Margaret's hand moved to her mouth.
The recording continued.
A door slammed.
Then Vanessa's voice.
“Richard, we have a problem.””
My blood turned cold.
Richard answered.
“What now?””
“She knows.””
“Who?””
“Camille. She knows about the money. She knows about the ownership papers.””
A long silence followed.
Then Richard said:
“Does Elena know?””
Vanessa replied:
“Not yet.””
Richard lowered his voice.
“Then make sure she doesn't find out.””
The recording crackled.
A chair moved.
Then came another sentence.
One that changed everything.
Vanessa whispered:
“What about the other girl?””
Richard answered:
“She stays with us.””
I froze.
The other girl.
Me?
Margaret paused the recording.
“Nia, are you all right?””
I couldn't speak.
Daniel continued playing.
Richard's voice came through again.
“Elena will never give up the company while she has a reason to stay. If she knows what happened to Camille, she'll take the documents straight to Whitmore.””
Vanessa replied:
“Then we need to separate them.””
I felt sick.
“Separate who?”” I whispered.
The recording continued.
Richard answered.
“Camille and Elena.””
A loud noise followed.
Then the recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
I stared at the speakers.
My mother hadn't simply disappeared from the company.
Someone had deliberately separated her from the woman she was trying to protect.
Margaret slowly closed the file.
“This is no longer just a business dispute.””
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?””
“We have evidence suggesting that Richard and Vanessa interfered with a patient's medical transfer and concealed information from the family.””
“Can they be arrested?””
“That's for investigators and prosecutors to determine. But this recording gives us a reason to request a formal investigation.””
I looked down at the photograph of my mother.
Then I remembered the last sentence in her letter.
Never let anyone convince you that the person who creates something is less important than the person who sells it.
She had known.
She had known something terrible was happening.
And she had tried to protect us.
That evening, Sophie agreed to meet us again.
She brought another item.
A small envelope her mother had hidden inside an old sewing box.
Inside was a photograph of a hospital corridor.
A woman was standing near the exit.
Her face was turned away from the camera.
She wore a dark coat.
But I recognized the posture.
The shape of her shoulders.
The way her left hand rested against her side.
It was my mother.
On the back, Patricia Miller had written:
*Elena left St. Agnes at 4:20 a.m. She was carrying a sealed envelope.
She looked frightened. I never saw her again.*
I stared at the photograph.
“Why didn't your mother tell anyone?””
Sophie wiped her eyes.
“She said she tried. But when she went to the police, the hospital claimed the photograph was from a different date.””
Margaret examined the image.
“Did Patricia know where Elena went?””
Sophie shook her head.
“No. But she mentioned a name.””
“What name?””
Sophie looked at me.
“Rosewood.””
Evelyn, who had been sitting quietly beside the window, suddenly stood.
“Rosewood?””
I turned toward her.
“Do you know what that means?””
Evelyn nodded slowly.
“There was a private residence in Connecticut. Your mother used to visit it when she needed somewhere quiet to work.””
“Who owned it?””
Evelyn's face became serious.
“Camille.””
I stared.
“Camille owned a house?””
“She inherited it from her grandmother. It was kept off the company records.””
Margaret immediately reached for her phone.
“We need the address.””
Evelyn gave it to her.
Daniel began making arrangements.
But before he could finish, my phone rang.
The caller ID showed my father's name.
I answered.
“What do you want?””
His voice was unusually calm.
“Come home, Nia.””
“No.””
“Your sister is here. She wants to speak to you.””
I looked at Brielle, who was sitting beside me.
She shook her head.
I didn't believe him.
“Put her on the phone.””
There was a pause.
Then I heard Brielle.
“Nia?””
“Are you safe?””
“Yes. But Dad found out about the recording.””
My heart tightened.
“How?””
“He searched my room.””
I stood.
“Where is the recording?””
“I'm hiding the original.””
“Where?””
She whispered:
“Inside the red dress.””
I looked down at my torn gown, which Margaret had helped me preserve.
“Brielle, listen to me. Don't move it. Don't tell anyone where it is.””
Then I heard another voice.
Vanessa.
“Give me that phone!””
The call disconnected.
I immediately called back.
No answer.
Margaret stood.
“We're going to the mansion.””
I shook my head.
“Not yet.””
She frowned.
“What?””
“If we go now, Richard will destroy everything.””
I looked at the photograph of my mother.
“We need to find Rosewood first.””
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Because I had a feeling that the answer to everything was waiting there.
And if my mother had survived that night, Rosewood might be the last place where someone had seen her alive.
