That night, Mia barely slept. The image of the woman in the photo haunted her—the same delicate smile, the same eyes filled with warmth. The name Mirabel Scott pulsed in her mind like a forgotten lullaby.
Unable to ignore the note's message, she sat at the edge of her bed and stared at the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
Richard knocked once before entering. “You’re still awake.”
“I can’t sleep,” she confessed, her voice low.
He stepped in and sat across from her. “Something’s bothering you.”
She hesitated, then handed him the photo. “Do you know this woman?”
Richard took one look and went still. “Where did you get this?”
“It came with a note. It says to check St. Mary’s Hospital.”
Richard didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stood and walked to the window. “That’s the
