"Here are the documents you asked for." Beatrice placed the file neatly on her uncle’s desk.
The man looked up from the papers in his hand, his gaze pausing at the black file on the table, and his lips stretched into a smile.
"Good. Well done. I knew only you could pull this off so neatly and cleanly," Thames said before he looked up at the girl with a smile.
"Right. You want to meet your mother," the man said and stood from his seat.
He walked to the shelf on his left and pulled out an orange file. He shuffled the documents until he found what he was looking for and then turned to where Beatrice was standing, refusing to sit because she wanted to see her mother so urgently.
"Here, this is your mother’s photo. You can go and meet her in ward no. 709. Just tell the nurse Mr. Thames sent you, and she will know, since I don’t allow anyone to meet that woman," Thames said.
Beatrice grabbed her mother’s photo with trembling hands, then nodded and took the guardian document with her.
She exited her uncle’s office and drove straight to the hospital mentioned in the documents, stopping the car right outside the hospital once she reached there.
Beatrice didn’t make a move immediately. She sat in the car, her gaze looking at the seventh floor of the hospital with her heart beating erratically in her chest.
Honestly, though she was eager to meet her mother, see what she looked like, and know what really happened that turned everything like that, and know who her father was, she didn’t really know if she was ready for the truth, the truth that would distinguish her from the life she had been living and knew about.
Beatrice took a deep, shaky breath to calm her shaking fingers before exhaling sharply.
"It’s just a meeting. She is not even well. What if she doesn’t even remember me?" Beatrice licked her bottom lip and exited the car.
Just like her uncle had mentioned, she told the nurse the details, and it wasn’t long before she stood outside the ward where her mother was.
"You can go inside. Please make sure not be near her until you trust her not to harm you. We have given her a calming dose, but anything triggering can make her anxious and attack you," The nurse said before leaving.
Usually, people of her mental condition can’t easily distinguish who is who. There’s a good chance she won’t recognize you as her daughter, since she didn’t see you grow up.
Her uncle’s words echoed in Beatrice’s head, and she swallowed hard before opening the door.
She saw a woman lying on the bed. Her head turned to her right side, where she looked at the sky out of the window.
Her foot was chained to the bed, her hair slightly a mess, while many scars adorned her hands and neck.
She almost looked like sticks and bones because she was so thin.
A whimper almost escaped her mouth when she realized she had been blaming her mother wrongly for abandoning her all this time.
"Mom?" Beatrice tried, but the woman didn’t turn to her.
Beatrice pursed her lips with fast heartbeats.
"Hey," she said, trying a different word, and just like she had guessed, the woman twitched in her place.
Beatrice smiled softly before she dragged the chair closer to the bed and sat on it.
"I am Beatrice Maiden. And you are?" Beatrice asked, a mocking smile appearing on her lips when she realized she didn’t even know what her real surname was.
"Whitney Maiden," her mother said, almost sounding defensive of her name.
Beatrice almost chuckled when she realized the woman on the bed was mimicking her surname.
"Is that so? That’s a pretty name. Would you like to be my friend?" Beatrice tried, extending her hand to her mother.
"No! Get away! Aaaa!" Her mother screamed, and Beatrice nearly fell backward in shock and fear.
"Okay. Okay. Don’t be scared. I won’t touch you. Please," Mom. Beatrice kept the last word to herself, her eyes brimming with tears.
Seeing the woman on the bed visibly calm, Beatrice calmed a little and sat up.
She looked around at the various crayon drawings on the wall. They weren’t childish. Her mother wasn’t acting like a child. The drawings were one of the best she had seen, she would say.
"Do you like to draw? I like to draw too," Beatrice whispered.
"Paint?" Her mother said before she hurriedly stepped down from the bed, making Beatrice almost flinch in her place, but she kept her cool.
She saw her mother pull out her colors from the drawer before she threw them at Beatrice’s foot.
"Paint," she said.
Beatrice smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Sad? Why cry? I bad? Sorry," her mother sat on the ground before she started crying, and Beatrice shook her head.
"No, Mom. You are not bad. I am bad for being such a bad daughter," Beatrice cried, pushing away her fear as she walked to her mother and hugged her.
At the same time, Heather, who had come to the hospital to meet a client and his wife, who had come here because their son got into an accident and lost his senses temporarily, stopped when he heard a familiar sound from the end of the hall.
"Is something wrong, sir?" Timothy asked his boss when he saw Heather stop and look towards the end of the hall.
"No. I just felt like I recognized someone’s familiar voice. I must be hearing things. A place meant for mental people does that to you," Heather chuckled before he got into the elevator.
"By the way, sir. About the young master’s engagement with Miss Beatrice, do you really not feel it’s a bit rushed? People might speculate about both of their reputations if words about Miss Elara being the ex-wife go out," Timothy said.
Heather sighed.
"My dad made the decision. I can’t say anything about that matter. You know how he is. He feels it’s his duty to provide justice to everyone. With the succession rumors, we must keep my father happy if we want the entirety of the business in our grip." Heather paused before he turned to his secretary.
"If he feels unhappy, he might try to sneak my sister’s husband’s name into the will, and that’s not what we want to happen, right?" Heather asked, and Timothy nodded in understanding.
It was indeed an important move meant to keep the rumors of infidelity and foul play at bay.