“Your son is healthy,” she continued. “Your husband sought care promptly when he found you. What we need to establish is that the home is safe, warm, supplied, and free from interference.”
“I can arrange that today,” I said.
“Who has access to the apartment?”
“My mother, my sister, and my brother-in-law.”
“Will they continue to have access?”
“No.”
Maya looked at me.
This time, my answer had come without hesitation.
Lena made a note.
“Because there may have been financial exploitation and deliberate deprivation of care, a report will be made. The police may contact you. This does not automatically mean anyone will be charged. It means the circumstances will be documented and reviewed.”
Maya’s fingers tightened around mine.
My first instinct was still the old one: protect the family name, prevent embarrassment, keep private matters private.
Then I remembered the footage.
The thermostat.
The formula tins.
My mother’s voice saying, For now.
