Confused

‎“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.