As he took a step toward me, a nurse quickly moved in front of him, blocking his path.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said firmly, “but inmates cannot be directed by visitors.”
Inmate.
The word sent a jolt through me, freezing me in place.
That was the very first time I had ever been addressed as if I were a criminal.
A sickening wave of shame crept over me. My hands instinctively moved to my chest, fingers twisting together as I dropped my gaze. Was that what I was to them? A prisoner? A problem?
Then, just as I was about to sink into the weight of that label, I heard it.
A voice—smooth, deep, authoritative.
“Then I’d like to end the tour,” he said, his tone carrying power. “Have me meet with the CEO of this building immediately.”
His words weren’t a request. They were orders.
A hushed s
