Chapter 4
Vanessa worked at the hospital.
I had always known that.
But Adrian told me she handled administrative scheduling for a different department.
He said her job had nothing to do with patient records.
Now I was hearing that a workstation associated with her department had been used to change mine.
I felt sick.
"Are you saying Vanessa altered my records?"
Renee answered carefully.
"I can't establish who personally entered the information. The hospital's privacy and security teams are investigating."
Angela leaned toward the phone.
"Renee, thank you for reporting your concerns. Please preserve the records through the proper hospital process."
Renee agreed.
Then the call ended.
I stared at my phone.
For a long moment, I couldn't speak.
Dad finally asked, "Serena?"
I looked at him.
"Vanessa was the one who helped me choose this hospital."
His expression tightened.
I continued.
"She said the maternity unit was excellent."
I swallowed.
"She arranged my first appointment."
Angela wrote something down.
I felt tears gathering.
"Was any of it real?"
Dad took my hand.
"Your medical care is real, sweetheart. We need to determine whether anyone interfered with the administrative systems."
I nodded.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that my life had been planned around me without my knowledge.
The next morning, hospital security requested a formal statement.
I described the disputed appointments.
The changed emergency contacts.
The forms I hadn't signed.
And the conversations I'd had with Vanessa.
I also told them that Diane had been present when I complained about missing medical information.
The investigator listened carefully.
Then asked a question.
"Mrs. Walker, did Vanessa ever ask for access to your phone or patient portal?"
I thought for a moment.
Three months earlier, Vanessa had helped me reset my hospital password.
I remembered sitting beside her in our living room.
She said the portal was having technical problems.
She took my phone.
Typed something.
Then handed it back.
I had thanked her.
Now my stomach twisted.
"Yes."
The investigator looked up.
"Can you describe when?"
I told him everything I remembered.
He made notes.
Then explained that the hospital would review account activity and access logs.
I nodded.
For once, I didn't feel guilty for asking questions.
I felt determined.
Later that day, Angela called with another development.
She had obtained copies of the estate-planning documents Adrian had arranged.
I sat up.
"What did you find?"
Her voice was serious.
"Serena, the papers include a proposed family trust."
I frowned.
"That's normal, isn't it?"
"It can be. But the terms need careful review."
I swallowed.
"What terms?"
"Some proposed provisions would give Adrian broad control over assets intended for your child's benefit."
I stared at Dad.
Angela continued.
"There's also a separate draft naming Diane as a successor trustee under certain circumstances."
My stomach tightened.
"Successor trustee?"
"Someone who could manage trust assets if the specified conditions were met."
I felt cold.
Diane.
Again.
Her name was appearing everywhere.
My medical records.
The proposed caregiver authorization.
The financial documents.
I looked toward the window.
"How much money are we talking about?"
Angela hesitated.
"That depends on what assets were intended to fund the trust."
I swallowed.
"My father established an investment account for the baby."
Dad nodded.
"I did."
He'd told me about it shortly after I announced the pregnancy.
It wasn't a small gift.
Dad had worked for nearly forty years building a construction and real estate company.
He wanted his granddaughter to have opportunities he never had.
I remembered him saying, "This child is going to start life with choices."
But we hadn't finalized the trust yet.
I looked at Angela.
"Could they access Dad's money?"
She answered carefully.
"Not automatically. We need to examine what was actually signed and funded."
Dad looked angry.
"Adrian knew about the account."
I nodded.
"He asked about it constantly."
My chest tightened.
I remembered how interested Adrian became whenever Dad mentioned the baby's financial future.
At the time, I thought he was being responsible.
Now I wasn't so sure.
Angela continued.
"We're reviewing all proposed documents and ensuring no unauthorized instructions are acted upon."
I exhaled slowly.
Then I asked, "Do you think Adrian married me for money?"
The room went silent.
Dad looked devastated.
Angela didn't pretend to know.
"Serena, only Adrian can explain his motivations. What we can investigate is his conduct."
I nodded.
But my heart hurt.
Because I remembered our wedding.
Adrian crying when I walked down the aisle.
The way he held my hands.
The promises he made.
For better or worse.
In sickness and in health.
Now he had stood behind his mother while she slapped me in a hospital.
And he'd helped create records suggesting I couldn't care for our daughter.
Whatever love had existed, something terrible had happened to it.
That evening, Dad brought dinner.
I barely touched it.
He sat beside me.
"Sweetheart, you need to eat."
I shook my head.
"I'm not hungry."
He sighed.
Then placed the food aside.
For a moment, we sat quietly.
Finally, I whispered, "Mom would've hated Adrian."
Dad looked at me.
His eyes filled.
"Your mother would've wanted you safe."
I started crying.
"I miss her."
He wrapped an arm around me.
"I know."
I leaned against him.
I remembered Mom brushing my curls before school.
Teaching me to cook.
Telling me that love should make me feel more like myself, not less.
I wondered what she'd say if she could see me now.
Eight months pregnant.
Frightened.
Questioning my marriage.
But finally beginning to stand up for myself.
Dad kissed my forehead.
"She'd be proud of you for telling the truth."
I closed my eyes.
Then the hospital door opened.
Dr. Ellis entered.
Her expression was serious.
"Serena, I need to discuss something with you."
I sat straighter.
"Is the baby okay?"
"Her current monitoring is reassuring."
I exhaled.
Then the doctor continued.
"But the records review has raised concerns about a previous medication-related instruction documented in your chart."
My stomach tightened.
"What instruction?"
She showed me a printed entry.
I stared at it.
It said I'd reported taking a medication I had never used.
My hands began shaking.
"That's not true."
Dr. Ellis nodded.
"We're verifying it. We don't want inaccurate information influencing your care."
I looked at the date.
Then I remembered something.
A prenatal appointment I'd missed because Vanessa told me it had been canceled.
That same day, Adrian insisted I stay home.
He said I needed rest.
I looked toward Dad.
"Daddy..."
He leaned forward.
"What?"
I whispered, "They weren't just trying to make me look unstable."
My voice broke.
"They were putting false information into my medical chart."
May you like
And suddenly, I understood that the danger wasn't only legal.
Someone had been interfering with the information doctors used to keep me and my baby safe.
