Chapter 2 - The Signature That Wasn’t Hers
Doreen stayed for almost an hour.
She reorganized Leah’s belongings without permission.
She questioned the nurse about medications.
She asked exactly how long Leah might remain hospitalized.
Then she asked something that made Leah stop listening to everything else.
“If Leah becomes too distressed after delivery, who decides when the baby can leave?”
The nurse looked uncomfortable.
“That depends on the circumstances.”
“Of course.”
Doreen smiled.
“I’m only trying to prepare.”
Leah watched Nathan.
He said nothing.
When Doreen finally left, Nathan leaned down and kissed Leah’s forehead.
“You need to stop looking for a fight with Mom.”
Leah pulled away.
“I saw the paperwork.”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But she saw it.
“What paperwork?”
“The psychiatric observation request.”
Nathan stared at her for half a second too long.
Then he shook his head.
“You misunderstood.”
“My name was on it.”
“Doctors make notes.”
“It said I’m paranoid.”
Nathan exhaled.
“You’ve been saying strange things lately.”
Leah sat upright.
“Such as?”
“You’re suspicious of Mom.”
“That isn’t a psychiatric symptom.”
“You had a nightmare about me dropping our baby into a river.”
“It was a dream.”
“You told me it felt real.”
Leah stared at him.
He was repeating her words back to her differently.
Changing their meaning.
Turning fear into evidence.
“You’ve been telling them things about me.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From yourself if things get worse.”
The room became very quiet.
Leah felt Simone watching from behind the curtain separating their beds.
Nathan reached for her hand.
Leah pulled it away.
“Go home.”
“Leah.”
“Go home.”
His eyes hardened.
“Fine.”
He walked out.
The moment the door closed, Simone pulled the curtain aside.
“That man is lying to you.”
Leah stared at the doorway.
“I know.”
“You need copies of those papers.”
“How?”
“I took pictures.”
Leah turned sharply.
Simone held up her phone.
“When I dropped the glass.”
“You photographed Doreen’s folder?”
“Three pages.”
Leah almost laughed from disbelief.
“Why?”
Simone’s face became serious.
“Because somebody once made decisions about me while pretending they were helping.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“I recognize the smell.”
Before Leah could ask what that meant, Nurse Mae Rowland entered.
Mae was in her late thirties with dark hair pulled into a tight bun.
Her expression was controlled.
Her eyes were not.
They went first to Leah.
Then to Simone.
Then toward the hallway.
“Mrs. Carver?”
“Yes?”
Mae stepped closer.
“Did you sign a consent form this morning allowing your husband and mother-in-law to discuss psychiatric treatment on your behalf?”
Leah’s blood turned cold.
“No.”
Mae swallowed.
“That’s what I thought.”
She removed a folded paper from her scrub pocket.
“I shouldn’t be showing you this.”
Leah opened it.
At the bottom was her name.
Leah Carver.
Beside it was a signature.
It looked almost exactly like hers.
Almost.
But Leah knew how she crossed the letter L.
She knew the slight hook she made at the end of Carver.
Whoever had signed this had practiced.
Leah looked up.
“That isn’t my signature.”
Mae nodded once.
“I know.”
Simone stood slowly.
“What does the form authorize?”
Mae looked at both women.
Then she closed the door.
“It authorizes Dr. Rusk to discuss psychiatric concerns with designated family members.”
Leah’s throat tightened.
“Who submitted it?”
Mae hesitated.
“Your husband.”
For several seconds, Leah couldn’t speak.
Nathan had promised to protect her.
Instead, he had signed her name.
Mae reached for the paper.
“Listen carefully.”
“If anyone asks, you never saw this.”
“Why?”
Mae’s eyes shifted toward the door.
“Because somebody just ordered me to place the original back in your chart.”
“And when I asked who verified the signature…”
May you like
Mae paused.
“They told me to stop asking questions.”
