Chapter 2

My body was getting worse.

Before, I just occasionally felt chest tightness. Now I was out of breath after a few steps.

Diane looked at my pale face with no sympathy in her eyes.

Only calculation.

"One more month." She told Richard in the kitchen.

"The insurance company has everything ready. We'll say the condition worsened, natural death."

"What about the medicine?"

"Already down to one pill. In a few days, we'll stop completely."

"Good. Just make sure no outsiders find out."

I stood outside the kitchen door, the recording pen quietly spinning in my pocket.

Filename: "Evidence_015_Medication_Cessation_Plan."

That afternoon, I collapsed at school.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital.

The attending physician was Dr. Brown, a woman in her forties.

She looked at my medical records, her expression grim.

"Your medication dosage is wrong. Given your condition, you should be taking three pills daily. Why only one?"

I said nothing.

Dr. Brown was silent for a moment, then sat by my bed.

"Memoria, tell me the truth. Is something wrong at home?"

I looked at her.

Her eyes were serious, not dismissive.

"Dr. Brown, if I tell you something, can you keep it secret?"

"What is it?"

"My parents want me dead."

Dr. Brown's pupils constricted sharply.

"They bought me five hundred thousand in insurance with themselves as beneficiaries. They're reducing my medication, waiting for my heart to fail naturally so they can collect the insurance money."

"I have evidence. Recordings, videos, diary entries. Everything."

Dr. Brown's hands were shaking.

She'd practiced medicine for twenty years, seen countless life-and-death situations.

But she'd never seen a twelve-year-old child describe in such calm tones how her parents were murdering her.

"Why... why didn't you call the police?"

"My dad is Richard."

Dr. Brown froze.

Richard.

The city's biggest real estate developer. The new inpatient building at the hospital was built with his donation.

His name still hung at the building entrance—"Monroe Tower."

"Memoria, stay at the hospital for a few days. I'll keep you here under the pretext of observation."

"During this time, I'll contact someone for you."

"Who?"

"My college roommate. She's a prosecutor in the provincial capital now. Your father's reach, however long, doesn't extend to the provincial level."

I looked at Dr. Brown.

This was the second person willing to help me.

The first was the homeless man, Mark.

The second was this doctor.

Both were strangers with no blood relation to me.

"Dr. Brown."

"Yes?"

"Thank you. But... if my dad finds out, will he do something to you?"

Dr. Brown smiled slightly.

"The first day I became a doctor, I took an oath to heal and save lives."

"Your father donated a building. Very impressive. But one building can't buy my conscience."

Diane came to the hospital to pick me up.

Her face wore a standard "loving mother" expression.

"Memoria, Mommy's here to take you home."

Dr. Brown stopped her.

"Mrs. Monroe, the child's condition isn't stable. I recommend a few more days of observation."

Diane's smile froze for an instant.

"Dr. Brown, we can take care of her at home."

"Then why is the child's medication dosage wrong?"

Dr. Brown looked directly into her eyes.

"Given her condition, she should be taking three amiodarone tablets daily. But the drug concentration in her system is only one-third of normal. Unless someone reduced her medication."

Diane's face went white.

"What... what are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating medical facts."

Dr. Brown closed the medical record.

"The child can't be discharged for now. If you insist on taking her, please sign a 'Refusal of Medical Advice Discharge Statement.' This statement will be filed, and if anything happens to the child, the hospital will submit it to the relevant authorities."

Diane stood there, lips trembling.

She knew that signing that statement would be leaving evidence against herself.

"...Then let her stay."

She turned to leave.

Passing by my bed, she whispered:

"Memoria, don't think you can make any waves."

I didn't look up.

Just pressed the save button on my recording pen under the blanket.

Filename: "Evidence_019_Hospital_Confrontation."

Almost enough now.

Without hesitation,

I packaged all the evidence and sent it out,

Quietly watching the other end confirm receipt.

Mom, Dad, this is the last gift I'm giving you.

You'd better catch it.