Chapter 4 - Alicia Moreno
Alicia Moreno did not want Leah's sympathy.
She made that clear in the first thirty seconds.
"I am not your proof," Alicia said.
They sat in the back booth of a small diner across town. Rachel was there. Naomi waited outside because Alicia had not agreed to meet her.
Leah kept both hands around a glass of water.
"I know."
"Do you? Because every time a hospital messes up, somebody rich discovers justice after the damage is done."
Leah absorbed it.
"You have every right to be angry at me."
"I am not angry at you. I am tired."
Alicia looked toward the window.
She had been stabilized, then transferred thirty-eight miles because the specialized maternal room was supposedly unavailable.
During transport, her condition worsened.
Her son Mateo was delivered by emergency surgery at the receiving hospital.
He survived.
But he spent four months in intensive care and now required therapy several days a week.
"Nobody can tell me exactly what would have happened if I stayed," Alicia said. "Maybe the same thing. Maybe worse. That is what makes this so cruel. I cannot prove the lost time changed Mateo's life."
Leah's eyes burned.
"I am not trying to promise what cannot be proven."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want to know whether a medical decision was changed because someone had money."
Alicia stared at her.
"And if it was?"
"Then the people who did it should have to say it out loud."
She reached into her purse and took out an old phone.
"A nurse called me after the transfer. She was scared. I saved the voicemail."
She pressed play.
A woman's voice filled the booth.
Alicia, this is Dana from Arbor Crown. I am not supposed to call. I just need you to know Room 12 opened eleven minutes after your ambulance left. I am sorry. I am so sorry.
Leah closed her eyes.
Rachel asked, "Do you know who was admitted?"
Alicia nodded.
"Brooke Lang."
"How do you know?"
"Because her father posted a photo from the room that morning."
She slid the phone across the table.
The image showed flowers, champagne for family members, and a brass plaque beside the door.
ROOM 12.
Rachel stared at it.
Then Alicia opened a second file.
"There is more."
A screenshot of a text appeared.
Unknown sender to Alicia:
STOP ASKING ABOUT THE ROOM. YOUR SON NEEDS YOU MORE THAN YOU NEED A LAWSUIT.
Leah's stomach tightened.
"When did you get this?"
"Two days after I requested my transfer records."
Rachel asked, "Did police trace it?"
Alicia laughed bitterly.
"No. But maybe your rich family can."
Leah did not answer.
May you like
Because she recognized the last four digits of the number.
They belonged to the Sutton Foundation's old legal line.
