Chapter 8 - THE HOSPITAL ROOM
Lorraine had not suffered a heart attack.
Panic attack.
Severe hypertension.
Observation overnight.
Travis still went.
Alone at first.
I stayed with Zia.
Then Lorraine requested to see me.
I almost refused.
Zia said:
“You should go.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because maybe she’ll say sorry.”
Hope.
Still.
Children are brutal that way.
They keep offering doors.
I went.
Lorraine looked smaller in the hospital bed.
No pearls.
No perfect hair.
No dining room.
Just an old woman in a blue hospital gown.
She looked at me.
“You came.”
“For Travis.”
“Of course.”
Silence.
Then:
“I shouldn’t have released your court records.”
“No.”
“You’re not going to say anything else?”
“What do you want?”
She looked away.
“I thought you would yell.”
“I’m tired.”
That seemed to hurt more.
She whispered:
“I’m losing everything.”
I stared.
“You’re losing control.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
I sat.
“They only feel the same if control is all you have.”
She looked at me.
For the first time, no contempt.
Just exhaustion.
“Do you hate me?”
I thought about it.
“No.”
She seemed surprised.
“I don’t trust you.”
That landed harder.
“I don’t want you alone with my daughter.”
Her eyes filled.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
I leaned forward.
“Because every time someone sets a boundary, you look for another door.”
She started crying.
“I don’t know how to stop.”
That was the first honest sentence I had heard from her.
I said:
“Then get help.”
She laughed weakly.
“Therapy?”
“Yes.”
“At my age?”
“Your age doesn’t make everyone else responsible for your damage.”
Silence.
Travis entered.
He had heard the last line.
Lorraine looked at him.
“You agree?”
“Yes.”
She cried harder.
“I lost Elise.”
Travis sat.
“You gave Elise away.”
“I know.”
“You lied to me.”
“I know.”
“You tried to steal from her.”
“I know.”
“You targeted Zia.”
Her face crumpled.
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“And I still love you.”
Lorraine froze.
“So do I.”
A tear ran down his face.
“But love is not access.”
That sentence changed the room.
Lorraine whispered:
“What does that mean?”
“It means we are not coming back because you’re sick.”
Her expression tightened.
“You’re abandoning me.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I’m visiting you in a hospital.”
“Then let me see Zia.”
“No.”
“Travis—”
“No.”
She looked at me.
I didn’t save her.
Good.
Then the door opened.
Elise.
Lorraine stared.
Elise stood there holding no flowers.
No gift.
Just herself.
“I heard you were sick.”
Lorraine cried.
“Elise.”
“Don’t.”
She stayed near the door.
“I came because I need to say something while you’re alive.”
Lorraine looked terrified.
Elise continued.
“I spent years imagining your apology.”
Silence.
“I thought if you said the perfect words, something inside me would settle.”
She shook her head.
“It won’t.”
Lorraine sobbed.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you regret losing us.”
That was precise.
Painful.
“Do you regret what you did?”
Lorraine tried to answer.
Couldn’t.
Elise nodded.
“That’s the work you still have to do.”
Then she left.
Lorraine looked shattered.
Travis followed Elise into the hallway.
I stayed.
Lorraine whispered:
“She hates me.”
“No.”
I looked toward the door.
“She finally stopped needing you to become someone else before she could live.”
Lorraine cried silently.
Then she said:
“The foundation hearing is tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“I’m withdrawing my challenge.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because William was right.”
That surprised me.
“About what?”
“I do confuse blood with ownership.”
Silence.
Then she looked at me.
“I want Zia to have the vote.”
I didn’t trust the sudden conversion.
“Why?”
Her mouth twisted into something almost like a smile.
“Because she was the only person in that room who had the power to throw me out and chose to ask for an apology first.”
That was true.
Then Lorraine handed me an envelope from her bedside drawer.
“What is this?”
“The final thing I hid.”
Of course.
I almost laughed.
“Open it.”
Inside was a letter from William.
Addressed to Lorraine.
Written weeks before he died.
You keep asking which child deserves the family name. You are asking the wrong question. The name must deserve the child.
My eyes filled.
Then another page.
William had requested a formal adoption trust.
If Travis ever legally adopted a child, regardless of biology, that child would receive equal standing to any biological descendants.
Zia’s adoption was already underway.
Meaning once finalized, there would be no ambiguity.
No guest.
No almost.
No qualifier.
I looked at Lorraine.
“You hid this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew one day Travis might adopt her.”
Honest.
Ugly.
Then Lorraine said:
“There’s another reason I’m withdrawing.”
I waited.
“Investigators came this morning.”
“What about?”
“The Denver property forgery.”
My stomach tightened.
“They know who prepared it.”
“Who?”
Lorraine closed her eyes.
“Mark.”
Her brother.
Again.
But this time she added:
“He didn’t forge William’s signature for me.”
I frowned.
“Then for who?”
Lorraine looked at me.
“Caroline.”
My heart dropped.
Travis’s sister.
The co-trustee.
The one helping us.
Lorraine whispered:
May you like
“Caroline has been moving money for two years.”
And just like that, the person who helped expose Lorraine became the next person we had to question.
