Chapter 10 - The Emergency Room Call
In late August, during a muggy Tuesday evening, my phone rang at 2:00 a.m.
My old nursing habits die hard; I was fully awake by the second ring, sitting up on the guest room bed in Lena's house where I had been staying for the past two weeks as her due date approached.
I looked at the caller ID. It was Dr. Marcus, the night attending physician at County General’s emergency department.
"Ruth?" Marcus said, his voice clipped and tired. "Sorry to call you so late, but I thought you should know. We just admitted Vivienne Ashford."
I froze, sitting up straighter. "What happened?"
"Severe alcohol poisoning and a single-vehicle accident off Route 9," Marcus reported. "She hit a stone wall near her mother’s country estate. Non-life-threatening injuries—a broken wrist, some lacerations, and a very high blood alcohol content. She’s currently belligerent, shouting at the nursing staff, demanding special treatment, and threatening to sue the hospital."
I let out a long, slow breath. "Is anyone with her?"
"Her mother came in twenty minutes ago," Marcus said with a weary sigh. "Victoria Ashford tried to order me to clear an entire private wing for her daughter. I told her we were operating at full capacity due to a multi-car pileup on the highway. She’s currently sitting in the public waiting room looking like she’s about to faint."
"Does Julian know?" I asked.
"He arrived ten minutes ago," Marcus said. "He looked completely lost. Ruth, the reason I'm calling is because Vivienne was raving about your daughter when she came in. She was screaming that Lena 'ruined her life' and that she was going to 'get what she deserved.' I wanted to make sure Lena was safe and that you guys had security set up."
"Lena is sleeping in her bed, Marcus," I said, my voice hardening into steel. "And her house has a security system managed by a former State Police officer. Vivienne Ashford can rave all she wants from a hospital bed. If she comes within a mile of this house, she won't be dealing with a doctor—she'll be dealing with a judge."
"Understood," Marcus said. "I just wanted to make sure you were in the loop. Take care, Ruth."
I hung up the phone and walked quietly down the hall to Lena’s room.
The door was slightly standing open. I peeked inside. Lena was fast asleep, her arm draped peacefully over her massive bump, the soft nightlight illuminating her calm, serene face.
I thought about Vivienne Ashford—lying in a crowded county ER, smelling of cheap liquor and old money, surrounded by doctors who didn't care about her last name, protected by a mother whose wealth could no longer buy her out of her own destruction.
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They had thought they were gods. They had thought their money gave them the right to push people around, to erase victims, and to rewrite reality to suit their needs. But in the end, they were just sad, broken people living in expensive houses, consumed by their own poison.
I closed Lena’s door softly, went back to my room, and fell into the deepest, most peaceful sleep I had enjoyed in months.
