When the Maid Rules Rogues

Chapter 6 — The Call and the Corridor

The hospital called me in the morning. A calm voice said my adoptive mother, Nancy, had been admitted. The nurse spoke clearly. She told me the room number and said the doctor would see me soon. My hands shook a little after I hung up. I put on my shoes and left at once.

On the way, I kept my breathing steady and told myself the same thing again and again: go, listen, act. I did not add any extra words. Worry wastes time. Action helps.

When I reached the hospital, I followed the signs to the fourth floor. The air smelled clean and sharp. The white lights hummed. The nurse at the desk checked the chart and nodded toward a door. I thanked her and went to wait outside the room. I stood with my back straight and my hands still. I did not go in. I did not want to get in the way of care.

While I waited, I remembered the first day I entered the Alpha's house years ago. I was thin and tired. The staff looked at me with doubt. Nancy was the one who stepped forward. She handed me a warm cloth for my face and a bowl of soup. She told me where the broom was, where the mop was, where the tea was, and where the spare blankets were kept. She did not ask me questions I could not answer. She showed me the work and made space for me at the long kitchen table. That is how my life there began.

A door opened. The attending doctor stepped into the hall and asked for my name. I gave it. He led me to a quiet corner by a window. His words were steady. Nancy needed a special herb to support the treatment plan. Without it, recovery would be slow and uncertain. With it, the plan would be stronger. He told me the local clinics did not stock it. The herb grew in rough ground outside our borders, and only in small patches.

“Can you get it?" he asked.

“Yes," I said. My voice was firm. “I will bring it."

He explained the dose and the form. He wrote the name on a slip of paper and underlined it twice. I folded the paper and slid it into my pocket. I thanked him for being direct. Direct is easier to carry.

I looked once through the window panel in the door. I saw Nancy asleep. I did not go in. I did not wake her. I turned and walked toward the elevators. I planned my route and what I would need. A knife, clean cloth, twine, and water. I would leave before sunset so I could move while there was light.

The elevator chimed. The doors opened. I stepped out into the main corridor on the first floor and turned toward the exit. At the same moment, two people came in from the outer doors—Anderson and Serena.

They were side by side. He wore a dark coat. She wore a pale dress and held a phone in both hands as if it were the only thing keeping her steady. They stopped at the front desk. The nurse asked for a name. Serena pressed her lips into a thin line and looked at Anderson. He leaned forward and spoke to the nurse in a low voice.

I did not move. I kept my place by the wall. I watched without calling out. I did not greet them. They did not greet me. That was fine. I had a task to plan.

Anderson's gaze swept the hall once. It landed on me for a second, then passed on. Serena did not look in my direction at all. The nurse printed a visitor pass and handed it across. Anderson thanked her and led Serena down the corridor toward the elevators I had just left.

I turned toward the exit, but their voices carried back to me. The hall was quiet. Their words were simple and clear.

“Your mother first," he said. “We'll see the specialist. I've already called him."

“I'm scared," Serena said. “They said it came on fast."

“We'll do the tests today," he answered. “I'll make sure she gets what she needs."

That was how I learned that Serena's mother was sick. I did not speak. I did not follow them. I stood where I was and let the facts arrange themselves in my head: Nancy was in a room upstairs and needed the herb. Serena's mother was somewhere in this same building and needed other care. Both truths could exist at the same time. I chose my next step. I would get the herb for Nancy today.

I walked to the information desk to ask for the nearest exit to the parking lot. The clerk pointed left. I thanked her and started down the hall. My pace was even. My mind was clear. My hands were steady again.

Halfway to the door, footsteps sounded behind me. I did not turn. People move fast in hospitals; it does not always mean anything. Then I heard Ben's voice speaking quietly to someone at the desk. He was asking for test schedules and lab locations. His tone was controlled and exact, the way it is when he is arranging a tight plan.

I reached the door and pushed it open. Cool air met my face. I took one step outside and then stopped. I checked my pocket for the paper with the herb's name. It was there. I checked my bag for the other things I would need. Knife. Cloth. Twine. Water. All there. I started toward the lot.

“Miss." A hospital aide had followed me. She held out a clipboard. “Sign-out for visitors," she said. I wrote my name on the line. The pen left a clean trail. I handed it back. She thanked me and turned away.

I stood on the sidewalk for a moment and set the plan into hours. If I left now, I could reach the edge of rogue land before the sun dropped. I could search for an hour, maybe two, and still make it back to the fence before full dark. It would be tight but possible.

I turned back toward the doors to pass the desk one more time and ask about the quickest road to the south path. As I reached the entry, the inner doors slid open again. Anderson and Serena were returning from the elevator area. A nurse had called to him about a form. He walked over to the counter to sign.

The nurse glanced at me and then at him. “Do you need anything else for your party?" she asked. Her eyes flicked between our faces in a quick, routine way, like she was trying to place who belonged with whom.

Anderson did not look at me. He kept his eyes on the clipboard. His answer was short and even. “She's from my house," he said. “A maid."

The words were plain. They were also final. They told the nurse what she needed to know for her chart, and they told me what I needed to remember for my own head. I nodded once, even though no one had asked me anything, and stepped away from the counter.

I did not speak to Serena. She did not speak to me. That was correct. This was not the time for side stories. This was a hospital. People here were working to help the sick. I had work to do as well.

I walked out through the doors again and kept going. The sky was a steady blue. The sun was past its peak. I crossed the lot, kept to the path along the hedge, and headed for the road that led south. My steps were sure. The plan was simple. I would get the herb and come back. I would hand it to the doctor. Nancy would have a better chance.

As I reached the corner, I paused long enough to send a two-line message to the kitchen at the estate: “I am out. Do not wait for me for evening rounds." I put the phone away and started walking.

I did not look back at the hospital doors. I did not repeat the words I had heard. I did not try to change them in my head. I let them be what they were and put them aside so I could move. There would be time later for the rest. For now, there was only distance to cover, plants to find, and a promise to keep.

I set my eyes on the road and kept my pace steady. I knew the land. I knew the signs. I could do this. I would do this.

I walked on.