Chapter 6 - REBECCA’S SIDE OF THE STORY
Rebecca surrendered herself to questioning before anyone found her.
She came to Julia’s office with an attorney.
No makeup.
No cream coat.
No polished confidence.
She looked exhausted.
“I want to see Claire.”
“No,” Julia said.
I was sitting in the next room.
I chose yes.
Rebecca entered.
Stopped.
Then cried.
I did not.
“Where is my daughter?”
“At Redwood.”
“I know.”
Her face changed.
“You found her.”
“Yes.”
Relief.
Actual relief.
Then I asked:
“Why did you carry her out?”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“Because Malcolm said she needed immediate specialized care.”
“Then why change her name?”
“Privacy.”
“Whose?”
Silence.
“Robert’s?”
“Yes.”
“And yours?”
“Yes.”
She sat.
“Our family has a history. My father spent years blaming doctors after Emily died. Robert grew up terrified of hospitals.”
“So you solved that by lying to me?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“We planned to tell you as soon as you woke.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Robert stopped me.”
“You could have told me anyway.”
“Yes.”
Good.
No excuse.
“Why didn’t you?”
Rebecca stared at her hands.
“Because at first the cardiologist said your daughter might not survive the night.”
“So?”
“I thought Robert was right.”
There.
“And when she stabilized?”
“I told him.”
“What did he say?”
“That you had already accepted she was dead.”
I nearly stood.
“Accepted?”
“I know.”
Rebecca was crying harder now.
“He said if we told you, you would rush to Redwood, see tubes everywhere, then maybe watch her die.”
“That was my right.”
“Yes.”
“Say it again.”
Her voice shook.
“It was your right.”
Good.
Then:
“Why the envelope?”
Rebecca wiped her face.
“Cash for transport and temporary private admission.”
“Why cash?”
“Robert didn’t want insurance notifications reaching you.”
Every answer was worse.
Not baby sale.
Concealment.
Then I asked:
“Why did Willie think you knew me from the hospital?”
She looked confused.
“I visited you.”
“No. Before.”
“What?”
Willie said the woman had “come to see you in the hospital.”
Maybe he simply meant the next day.
Fine.
Then Rebecca revealed something I had not known.
She had secretly recorded one conversation with Robert.
Why?
“Because he scared me.”
We played it.
Robert:
We wait until surgery.
Rebecca:
No. Claire needs to know.
Robert:
If surgery fails, she never needs to know we gave her hope.
Rebecca:
That is insane.
Robert:
I watched her scream when they told her the baby died. I cannot make her do that twice.
Rebecca:
You don’t get to decide.
Robert:
I’m her husband.
Rebecca:
That doesn’t make you her owner.
Silence.
Then Robert:
If you tell her before surgery, you’ll never see Willie or the baby again.
My heart stopped.
He threatened Rebecca.
Not physically.
Through family access.
Still.
Then Rebecca said:
“That’s why I started keeping copies.”
Emails.
Medical records.
Payments.
She had been preparing to tell me.
“When?”
Her face crumpled.
“After surgery.”
Again.
Everyone waiting for later.
Nobody asking me now.
Then her attorney handed Julia a document.
A draft custody petition.
Prepared by Robert.
Not against me exactly.
Emergency medical decision-making authority if I became “psychologically unable to participate.”
I stared.
He had documented my grief as potential incapacity.
Then Julia found the filing date.
May you like
Three days after telling me our daughter died.
While I was in bed barely eating, Robert was preparing paperwork that could have reduced my authority if the truth came out.
