Sensing Caitlin’s urgency, Tobias couldn’t help but ask, “You seem deeply concerned about this patient. May I ask what your relationship with her is?”

“To be honest,” Caitlin said, her voice steady but emotional, “she might be my mother. I’m looking for her. Please, Tobias, I’m begging you–if there’s anything you know about her, please tell me. Do you still have her medical records?”

Caitlin laid her intentions bare. Tobias paused for a moment, thoughtful, then gave a small nod. “I’ll have someone check the archives. Please wait here.”

He walked to his desk and dialed the records department. “Look up a patient file. Yes, the name’s Ellie. Once you find it, bring it straight to my office.”

After hanging up, there was nothing to do but wait.

In the meantime, Caitlin asked about the girl who had tried to jump earlier. “By the way, what’s the situation with Ida? She mentioned her brother hadn’t visited in a long time. Has anyone been able

to reach him?”

Tobias gave a sigh and began to explain. “Ida may look young–she’s only sixteen–but she’s actually been with us for over five years now.”

*Over five years? Just because of a missing arm? This is a mental health facility, not a physical rehabilitation center,” Caitlin said, skeptical.

“No, no,” Tobias replied. “She lost her arm in a car accident when she was a child. Her parents died in the crash. She was the only survivor, but she lost an arm. That’s not why she’s here. She suffers from spinocerebellar ataxia. It’s a rare degenerative disorder, and we happen to have a specialist for it here.”

“Spinocerebellar ataxia…”

Caitlin knew the condition–patients often start with coordination issues, unsteady gait, poor precision. It’s a hereditary disease, with key symptoms being movement disorder and speech problems.

Tobias continued, “When she first came, the symptoms were mild. Over the years we’ve provided supportive care, which slows down the progression, but unfortunately, there’s no cure. She has a brother who used to visit from time to time, but this year he hasn’t come at all. Ida might feel abandoned… which may have led to her suicidal thoughts.”

Caitlin’s heart ached with sympathy. Sixteen years old, facing a lifetime of pain and illness–that was more than most could bear. No wonder she’d lost hope.

Just then, a knock came at the door. A staff member from records stepped inside, holding a manila

folder.

“Tobias, here are the files you requested.”

Tobias accepted the folder, opened it, and pulled out the contents.

After verifying the name, he handed the papers to Caitlin. “Here–these are her medical records

from our center.”

Caitlin and Sebastian read through the documents carefully. Everything listed under Ellie’s personal information was completely inconsistent with her mother’s. Nothing matched.

It was either a case of mistaken identity–or someone had deliberately falsified everything.

The records included routine reports: instances of relapse, treatment summaries, even notes from psychological evaluations. But there was one thing all the documents had in common.

“These all look like photocopies,” Caitlin noted. “Are there no originals?”

“You have a good eye,” Tobias said, impressed. “No, we don’t have the originals anymore. As medical professionals, we always aim to preserve full patient records. But last year, when the Flowerstone Tower was sold and we relocated, Ellie’s family came to discharge her. They requested to take the originals, saying they needed them for insurance reimbursements.

“I suspected we might need to reference the files later, so I had my staff quietly make copies. Without those, you’d be holding nothing right now.”

So that was it.

If not for Tobias’s foresight, Caitlin wouldn’t even have this.

“You said she was discharged… Who picked her up?”

“Check the last page. There’s a signature in the ‘family member‘ section of the discharge form.”

Caitlin flipped to the final sheet and found the signature. It was scrawled and hard to decipher.

“What’s this say?”

“Looks like ‘Parker‘ to me,” Sebastian guessed, “The strokes match.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Tobias confirmed. “He introduced himself as her family. Very polite man.”

Tobias’s memory of Ellie was vivid. When she was admitted, her case had come with specific instructions: she was to be given priority care. They’d even arranged a private room for her.

In the beginning, she’d tried to run away several times, so they installed wire mesh outside the

windows to prevent escape.

2:25 pm

55 vouchers

That’s what Ashfall had accidentally stumbled across–Ellie behind the wire mesh. It had looked like imprisonment, but inside the facility, her freedom wasn’t restricted. She could move around freely like the other patients.

As Tobias explained, Caitlin looked down at the falsified records in her hand. Her gut told her Ellie was her mother.

She’d been admitted three to four years ago. Discharged last year.

That meant she stayed for around two years–and received special care the entire time. Her records and treatment matched the timeline and circumstances of her mother’s disappearance.

But who arranged this?

Who had ordered Black Hawk to abduct her mother and send her to a facility in Athelia?

And where had this man named Parker taken her?

There were still too many unanswered questions.

Thank you, Tobias, for telling me all of this. One last thing–do you have any photos of Ellie? There’s nothing in the file. I need to see if she’s really my mother.”

The original records had one, but the photo went missing sometime after we handed them over. Even the copies were missing it. But… we do have group photos from our patient archives. I’ll see if

can find one.”

Tobias stood and walked over to the bookshelf. After a moment of searching, he returned with a arge photo album in his hands.