~ Stephen ~
The hospital clerk doesn’t want to help me.
“You can’t just access patient records,” she says, giving me that tight customer-service smile. The fake one. The one that says, "Sir, please go away."
I lean on the counter.
“I’m not asking for full records.”
“That’s still confidential.”
I slide my card across the desk.
She glances down.
Her eyes widen a little when she sees the name.
Hale.
The vibe shifts instantly.
Annoying.
But useful.
“I’m looking for something simple,” I say quietly. “Five years ago. Cosmetic consultations. Bariatric referrals. Name Rebecca Carter.”
She hesitates.
Lowkey panicking.
Because she knows exactly what I’m asking.
“I can’t release personal—”
“I’m not asking for her medical history,” I interrupt. “Just confirmation she came here.”
Her
