“I’m staying.” My voice came out harder than I intended. “You wanted me here, remember? You called me before the ambulance. Said you felt better having me at your side because I’d make sure you were properly taken care of.”
The doctor glanced between us, the tension palpable. My mother’s carefully painted expression wavered, and she let out a huff of irritation.
“If you insist on making a scene,” she murmured, shifting on the bed. “Fine. You may stay.”
Dr. Kirk gave me a curt nod, then turned his attention to his tablet. “The EKG looked good—no signs of ST segment elevation or depression, Q wave abnormalities, or T-wave inversion. Your troponin levels were also normal, which indicates there’s no evidence of heart damage.”
My fists clenched at my sides. The medical jargon washed over me, but all I cared about was whether my mom was okay.
Margot blinked. “Then why did I feel that awful pressure in my chest? I could hardly breathe!”
“We’ll repeat the troponin test in ten hours since increased troponin levels usually don't show up for about two to three hours after a heart attack begins,” he explained. “If those results remain normal, we’ll likely run a stress test or chest X-ray to rule out other causes.”
My jaw tightened. “So you don’t actually know what’s wrong with her yet?”
Dr. Kirk’s gaze flicked to mine. “Not definitively. Anxiety or panic attacks can mimic cardiac symptoms—tightness in the chest, shortness of breath, and dizziness. Your mother’s vitals have all been stable since she arrived, and her initial test results are normal, so that’s one possible explanation.”
My mother’s spine snapped straight. “Are you suggesting this is all in my head?”
“I’m saying it’s possible stress caused what you experienced,” he replied, unfazed by her outrage. “We’ll continue monitoring overnight to be certain.”
Her hand flew to her chest, and she gasped softly—as if the word stress itself offended her sensibilities. “I see. Well. I hope your staff intends to take my case seriously. I’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
“We take the health of all of our patients seriously, Mrs. Prescott.” Dr. Kirk’s polite smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll check back in a few hours.”
He nodded to me and left before she could reply. The curtain swished closed again, and silence filled the room except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor.
My mother exhaled in an exaggerated rush. “Honestly, the nerve. Accusing me of being hysterical.”
I didn’t respond, had no clue what I’d even say. The monitor kept its steady rhythm, same as it had since I arrived. The more I watched, the more I felt like I was missing something obvious.
“Unbelievable,” my mother muttered, adjusting the thin blanket over her lap. “Hours in this place, and no one’s brought so much as a cup of water. You’d think a hospital could manage basic hospitality.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing my voice to stay even. “You’re not at the Four Seasons, Mom.”
“Well, perhaps they could take a few lessons.” She sniffed, smoothing the fabric over her knees. “The doctor was dismissive. Imagine implying I’m anxious. I’ve never had a nervous temperament.”
Considering how she’d fallen apart for months after my father died, that wasn’t exactly true. But she’d lost the love of her life, as she had told me many times, so it didn’t seem fair to judge her based on how she acted back then.
I sank onto the chair beside her, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. “Maybe you should try to get some rest before they come back to run the second round of tests.”
She huffed softly, ignoring me as she reached for her purse on the bedside table. Her lipstick was still flawless. Not a hair out of place. And the longer I sat there, the more obvious it became that she didn’t look like someone who’d just had a cardiac scare.
Before I could give voice to my suspicion, the curtain slid open again.
“Margot?”
Sophie stood there, holding two takeaway cups. Her expensive purse was slung over her shoulder, and she’d changed into something that was more oddly professional than what she’d worn to the office this morning.
My mother’s transformation was instant. One second fragile, the next beaming. “Oh, Sophie, darling! How thoughtful of you to come.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my brows drawing together.
Sophie smiled, the picture of innocence. “I was nearby when Margot called. So I thought I’d drop by to make sure she’s comfortable.”
I glanced at my mother, my unease growing. I’d arrived at the hospital only five minutes after the ambulance and hadn’t left her side. She hadn’t made a call in all that time. “Nearby?”
“Dinner with my parents,” Sophie explained as she moved closer, her fingers bruising mine as she handed me one of the cups. “Mom would’ve come too, but she and Dad had cocktails with an investor after our dinner.”
