The first face into the doorway was a nurse's; the second, a security officer with open hands and a calm voice; the third, Ethan.
“Step away from her," he said, already moving to place himself between the bed and Amelia.
“I haven't touched her," Amelia replied. Her voice was level.
Vivian clutched the sheet to her throat. “She threatened me," she whispered, then louder: “She screamed at me and tried to—"
“I asked where our daughter is," Amelia said. “The answer became a performance."
“Out," Ethan ordered the security officer, as if command were a muscle. “Give us a moment."
The officer and nurse withdrew, hovering within earshot.
Ethan turned back, jaw set to verdict. “You don't come into Vivian's room. You don't speak to her. You don't look at her."
“Then look at me," Amelia said,
