“Clara? What are you doing here at this hour?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“An emergency,” I said, keeping my voice as level as I could. “My mother has to be transferred immediately.”

Evelyn leaned forward, looking at her screen. “We didn’t receive any transfer paperwork from your office.”

“It was a sudden decision,” I said. “I have the power of attorney. I am taking her tonight.”

Alexander stepped forward, his presence filling the small, sterile lobby.

Even in his damp, borrowed clothes, he carried the weight of authority.

“We have private transport waiting around the corner for her comfort,” he said smoothly. “Please, help us get her ready.”

Evelyn hesitated, looking between us, then slowly nodded. “I’ll get the orderly.”

We walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway to room 114.

My mother, Eleanor, was asleep under a thin blue blanket.

Her breathing was shallow, a quiet rustling sound in the dark room.

“Mom,” I whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. “We have to go.”

She opened her eyes, glassy and confused under the dim nightlight. “Clara? Is it morning?”

“No, sweetie. We are going to a different place. Somewhere quieter.”