Chapter 8 - THE BOY ON THE LIST
"We don't negotiate with her," Nathaniel said.
"Easy to say when it isn't your father in that hospital bed," Emma snapped.
He deserved that, too. Rather than argue, he drove Emma to the address printed beside Mateo Perez's name. It was a small apartment above a bakery, miles from the chandeliers.
Mateo's mother, Isabel, opened the door with a chain still attached.
"We aren't doing interviews," she said.
"I'm not a reporter," Emma answered. "My father handled claims at St. Catherine's. I think he was trying to help you."
Isabel's face changed. She removed the chain.
Mateo sat at the kitchen table drawing superheroes. An unused pair of therapy braces leaned against the wall.
"The foundation wrote us a congratulations letter," Isabel said. "Said our therapy grant had been paid in full. The clinic said it never received a dime. So I maxed out two cards. He missed six weeks of treatment."
"Do you have both letters?" Nathaniel asked.
"I have everything. You keep every scrap when your kid needs help."
Isabel set a shoebox on the table. Inside were envelopes, clinic statements, dates, and a thank-you card with Victoria Langford's embossed signature.
Nathaniel read one page. "Our ledger reports this as a completed payment."
"Then your ledger is lying," Isabel said.
Mateo looked up. "Are you the man on the hospital sign?"
"Yes."
"Can you fix my legs?"
Nathaniel struggled for a breath. "I can make sure someone tells you the truth. And I'm going to try to fix what I can."
May you like
As they left, Isabel received a text from an unknown number: DO NOT GIVE THEM YOUR BOX.
A photograph followed—Mateo's bedroom window, taken from outside only minutes earlier.
