Episode1
1068 Words
“WHAT?!” My scream ripped through the office, bouncing off the glass walls.
“I’m sorry, Miss Stacy,” the voice on the phone said, calm but heavy. “You’ve been called to confirm the death of your mother.”
My world tilted. “No… no, that’s not possible.” My voice cracked as I gripped the edge of my desk. “I’m on my way.”
I slammed the phone down. This had to be some cruel mistake. My mom—dead?
“Henry!” I barked, my voice trembling.
He appeared instantly at the door. “Yes, Stacy?”
“Arrange a car. We’re going to the hospital. You’re coming with me.”
“Right away.”
I stormed out, my heels clicking furiously against the marble floor. The elevator doors couldn’t close fast enough. Minutes later, I slid into the back seat of the black SUV. Henry took the passenger seat while the driver adjusted the mirror nervously.
I glanced out the window and noticed two more SUVs tailing us, all filled with my security detail.
“Henry, I said one car.” My tone was sharp.
He shifted uncomfortably. “I know, but… it’s safer this way.”
I didn’t argue. My mind was too tangled to care. The city blurred past in a haze of neon lights and honking horns as we sped toward the hospital.
When we arrived, I flung the door open and sprinted toward the entrance. The automatic doors whooshed apart, welcoming me into a chaotic lobby. Nurses rushed past with clipboards, patients moaned in pain, and the scent of antiseptic hung thick in the air.
“WHERE’S MY MOTHER?!” My voice cut through the noise like a blade. Heads turned. The room went silent.
A nurse gestured weakly toward the emergency ward. I didn’t wait for an escort.
I burst through the doors to find a cluster of doctors huddled around a bed. They parted as I approached, revealing a motionless body draped in a white sheet.
No. No, no, no.
One doctor stepped forward, his eyes filled with pity. Slowly, he pulled back the sheet to reveal her face.
“Is this your mother?”
My knees buckled. I froze, staring at the lifeless face I’d known my whole life. Five seconds felt like eternity. Then came the tears—hot, blinding, unstoppable.
“DON’T JOKE WITH ME!” I screamed, lunging at the doctor and gripping his collar. “She can’t be gone! Do something! Bring her back! Is it money? I’ll pay—whatever it takes!”
His gaze fell. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.”
I crumpled to the floor, my cries raw and unrestrained. “No… no… NOOO!”
Arms wrapped around me from behind, strong and familiar.
“It’s okay, Stacy. I’m here.”
“Brian?” I turned, clutching him desperately. “Where have you been? She’s gone, Brian. She’s gone.”
He held me tighter. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
But the comfort only made the pain sharper. I shoved him away, my grief now laced with rage. “NO, IT’S NOT OKAY! Where’s the detective?”
I bolted out of the ward, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed me.
“That’s the CEO’s daughter…”
“Poor thing. She just lost her mom.”
“Maybe karma finally caught up with her.”
I clenched my fists. Let them talk. None of them mattered.
Outside, I spotted Detective John pacing by a police car. He looked up as I approached.
“Miss Stacy—”
“I need answers!” I snapped.
“Please, calm down—”
“I SAID I NEED ANSWERS!”
He nodded gravely. “Then come with me. We need to visit your mother’s house.”
I hesitated, dread curling in my stomach. The house. I wasn’t ready. But I forced a breath. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Behind me, Henry stepped forward. “Stacy, let me come with you.”
“No. Handle the arrangements for my mom. Autopsy, mortuary… everything.”
“Yes, Stacy.”
Brian touched my arm gently. “What about me?”
I gave him a faint, broken smile. “Help Henry. Please.”
He nodded. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”
I slid into the detective’s car, my security detail following in convoy. As we drove through the city, the weight of silence pressed down on me.
“So,” I finally said, my voice hoarse, “what was the cause of death?”
“Officially? Heart attack. But…”
“But what?”
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “That’s just for now. We found… things. You’ll want to see them yourself.”
“Heart attack?” I whispered. “That’s impossible. She was healthy. No history of high blood pressure. She was only fifty-three.”
“Exactly,” he said grimly. “That’s why we’re investigating.”
I fell silent again, staring at the passing streetlights. My heart pounded like a warning drum in my chest.
A tap on my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts.
“We’re here,” the detective said, holding the door open for me.
I stepped out, the night air cold against my tear-streaked face.
My mother’s house loomed before me—silent, dark, and suddenly full of secrets.
- Writer
