Chapter 5 - The Date on the Ticket
Emma’s breathing hitched. The antiseptic burned like fire against her open skin, but she barely felt it. She stared at Julian, seeing the exact moment his reality shattered completely.
"I didn't check myself out," Emma whispered, the words scraping out of her dry throat. "I never signed discharge papers, Julian. Victoria brought me a cup of tea around noon. After I drank it, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I woke up in a room with no windows, strapped to a bed. They told me I had been transferred to the psychiatric hold ward."
Julian physically recoiled, hitting the edge of the heavy oak desk behind him. "The psychiatric ward?" he choked out. "No. No, Victoria showed me the discharge forms. Your signature was on them."
"She forged them!" Emma cried, her voice cracking with five years of buried trauma. "She forged the buyout contract, and she forged my discharge. Julian, I was in that ward for three weeks. They kept me heavily sedated. Victoria signed the transfer papers as my attending nurse, claiming I had threatened to harm my baby. By the time I finally convinced a doctor I was sane, you were gone. My apartment was empty. My whole life was gone."
Julian stared at the faded train ticket in his hand. The date stamped in red ink suddenly looked like a confession of murder. If Emma had bought this ticket weeks later, it meant she had never walked away. It meant she had been a prisoner, drugged and locked away in the very hospital where she had given birth, while he was holding their son, believing she had sold him for cash.
"Oh my god," Julian breathed, his voice breaking. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "What have I done?"
"You believed a lie," Emma said softly, the fight suddenly draining out of her, leaving only a bone-deep exhaustion. "She made sure it was a lie you couldn't question."
Before Julian could respond, the office door was thrown violently open.
"Julian!"
The shrill, frantic voice cut through the room like a siren.
Emma flinched. Standing in the doorway was Victoria.
She looked exactly the same as she had five years ago, only draped in expensive designer clothes. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, but her eyes were wild with panic.
"The manager called me," Victoria gasped, rushing into the room. "He said there was an accident with glass, he said Leo—"
Victoria’s eyes landed on Leo, who was sitting quietly on the desk chair, completely unharmed. She let out a breath of relief. But then her gaze shifted.
She saw the paramedics. She saw the bloody uniform. And then, she saw Emma’s face.
Victoria stopped dead in her tracks. All the color instantly vanished from her perfectly manicured face. For a split second, the mask slipped, revealing a look of pure, unadulterated terror.
But Victoria was fast. She recovered in a heartbeat, her expression hardening into icy authority. She didn't acknowledge Emma. She didn't even look at Julian.
She marched straight toward Leo and grabbed his small arm, pulling him off the chair with unnecessary force.
"We are leaving. Right now," Victoria snapped.
Leo whimpered, trying to pull his arm back. "Mommy, you're hurting me."
"Let go of him, Vic," Julian said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was laced with a dark, dangerous edge that made the paramedics pause their work.
Victoria ignored him. She yanked Leo toward the door. "Julian, grab your coat. This place is a liability. We're going to the hospital to get him checked for glass shards—"
"I said, let him go," Julian repeated, stepping forward and firmly planting his large hand over Victoria’s wrist. He squeezed, forcing her to release the boy.
Victoria spun around, her eyes flashing with indignant fury. "Excuse me? I am his mother, Julian. I am taking my son out of this filthy—"
"You're not going anywhere," Julian interrupted, his voice deathly calm. He held up the faded train ticket. "We need to talk about the psychiatric hold ward at Memorial Hospital. We need to talk about how you forged her discharge papers."
Victoria’s pristine facade cracked. Her eyes darted frantically around the room, landing on the paramedics, the manager in the hallway, and finally, on Emma.
"She's lying!" Victoria shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Emma. "Whatever this crazy bitch told you, she's lying! She sold him, Julian! She sold him and ran!"
As Victoria flailed her arm, her heavy, oversized designer purse slipped from her shoulder. It hit the carpet with a heavy thud, tipping over and spilling its contents across the floor.
Lipstick, a leather wallet, car keys, and a compact mirror scattered across the rug.
But it was the last object that rolled out of the bag that made the entire room go dead silent.
It was a small, beautifully carved wooden rosary. The beads were worn and dark with age, and the silver cross at the end was slightly bent.
Emma’s breath hitched in her throat. She pushed past the paramedic, ignoring the searing pain in her back, and stared down at the floor.
"That..." Emma whispered, her whole body trembling. "That is my mother's rosary."
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Julian looked down at the wooden beads, then slowly up at his wife.
Emma looked at Victoria, her eyes filling with a fierce, blinding rage. "I tucked that rosary under my baby's mattress the night he was born. I never took it out."
