"I know where your mother is. I'll take you to see her!" Ned crouched down, placing his hands on Sophie's shoulders. "You have to pull yourself together. There are still many things you need to handle." With that, he gently but firmly helped her to her feet, keeping an arm around her shoulders as they left the VIP ward and entered the elevator.
The elevator descended steadily, floor after floor, until it stopped at B4—the fourth basement level. This was a part of the hospital Sophie had never visited, though she had always known it housed the morgue.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Ned stepped out of the elevator first. Terrified, Sophie clung tightly to his arm, following him step by step. The entire floor was brightly lit, yet utterly deserted and eerily empty. The air carried a heavy, pungent odor of chemicals—some kind of disinfectant she couldn't identify, sharp and stinging.
After several turns, they arrived at the door of an office. Ned asked her to wait outside for a moment while he went in alone to speak with the staff. Sophie looked around. The place felt gloomy and oppressive, as if countless unseen eyes were watching her. The silence was absolute—so profound that even the drop of a pin would echo clearly. Overwhelmed with fear, she wrapped her arms around herself, silently sank to the floor, and buried her head in her knees.
It felt as though time had frozen. She might be the only living soul breathing in this entire space. In her mind, Sophie began counting seconds to steady herself: "1, 2, 3… 166, 167…" Just then, the office door opened. A doctor emerged, followed by Ned. Seeing Sophie crouched by the door, the doctor smiled gently, shook his head, and turned to Ned. "Mr. Harrington, how could you leave this young lady waiting outside alone? It must be terrifying for her."
Ned, who could sometimes be oblivious in such matters, suddenly realized the gravity of his oversight. He hurried over, wrapped his arms around the trembling Sophie, helped her stand, and rubbed her arms soothingly up and down. "I'm sorry—truly, so sorry! I didn't realize that leaving you out here alone would scare you like this." He pulled the pale-faced Sophie close. "Are you ready to go see Sarah now? If not, we can—"
"I can. I'm ready," Sophie interrupted firmly before he could finish.
The two followed the doctor deeper into the corridor, where the lights were motion-activated—flickering on only as someone approached and plunging back into darkness once they passed.
When the sign reading "Morgue" finally came into view, the doctor handed Sophie a form to review and sign. Only then did he nudge a small switch by the door with his foot, opening the heavy gate. "Miss Davies, since your mother's death was ruled a suicide and not natural causes, the hospital requires official documentation from the police before we can make final arrangements. For now, to allow family to pay respects, we've temporarily placed her in an examination room. However, the circumstances of the case are quite clear, so we expect resolution this afternoon. At the earliest, please return tomorrow—your mother will then have a private compartment."
Sophie nodded numbly.
The accompanying doctor continued forward, stopping in front of a small examination room. He made a gentle "please" gesture and said, "Miss Davies, your mother has been temporarily placed here. You may pay your final respects. Please accept my deepest condolences."
Standing at the doorway, Sophie didn't dare step inside. Though the walls were pristine white, the entire space felt dark, cavernous, and hollow. In the center of the room stood a medical bed, draped with the hospital's standard white sheet. Beneath it, a slight, frail outline rose in the middle—the unmistakable shape of a woman's body.
Like a walking corpse, Sophie slowly approached the bed. Her hands trembling, she lifted the edge of the sheet, gradually revealing her mother's face. The pallid complexion and the sunken indentation on her head told her everything: Mom was truly gone. She would never smile at her again, never chat with her, cook for her, or go shopping together…
"Mom… Mom, why did you abandon me?" No more tears would come; Sophie's heart seemed to have died the moment she saw her mother's body. "I've already broken up with Ned. Didn't we agree to go to America and start a new life?"
Standing behind her, Ned was overwhelmed with guilt. He deeply regretted insisting on breaking up with Sophie. They had no blood relation at all—why had he been so stubborn? So what if he acknowledged being an illegitimate son? To hell with his pride, his need to win or lose, his schemes. Sophie—his dearest Sophie—would you ever forgive me?
Lost in her own crushing grief, Sophie was completely unaware of Ned's inner turmoil. She grasped her mother's ice-cold hand. "Mom, I'll do what you wanted. I'll take you to America. We'll go together, okay? Let's leave this place that hurt us both forever, okay?"
"Sarah, my dear little sister—how could you be so desperate as to jump? You've left Sophie, you've left your brother…" Uncle Matthew arrived with the entire family, weeping openly beside Sarah's bed. "You'd only just returned to New York from Manchester—less than a year—and I never even got to properly reunite with you…"
Today, the usually sharp-tongued and materialistic Aunt Charlotte was transformed. She wrapped an arm around Sophie's shoulders and comforted her softly: "Sophie, don't be afraid. Sarah must have felt life was too hard, so she chose another way to live. Don't blame her. These past twenty-plus years have been so oppressive for her." Aunt Charlotte dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
"We'll stay with you and take care of all of Sarah's final arrangements. Do you have any plans for the future?" Uncle Matthew asked, his voice choked with sobs as he turned to her.
"Mom and I had already agreed she'd go to America—for treatment, for me to study, to settle there," Sophie replied without hesitation.
"To America? So far away? Stay in New York—we can take care of you!" Uncle Matthew blurted out, then glanced at Aunt Charlotte.
Sophie, not noticing the exchange between her uncle and aunt, answered firmly: "This was Mom's final wish. At the very least, I'm going there to finish my studies. I'll decide where to go after that."
The group slowly left the morgue and arrived in the hospital lobby. "As for the police station, let me handle the follow-up procedures. You go home this afternoon and get some rest first. I'll notify you the moment there's any news," Uncle Matthew said, looking at Sophie with heartache. Aunt Charlotte nodded in agreement beside him.
"Okay. I want to spend a little more time in Mom's old ward. You all go ahead," Sophie replied, like a puppet with no expression whatsoever, blankly walking toward the elevator hall.
After nodding to them in acknowledgment, Ned followed behind Sophie and entered the elevator with her.
With the nurse's permission, Sophie went alone into the VIP ward. She stood in front of the bed where her mother had once lain, staring blankly at it as if her mom were still sleeping there, and she was simply waiting for her to wake up.
Ned glanced at his watch and calculated the time—his father's surgery had already been going on for nearly five hours. After asking the nurse to keep a close eye on the VIP ward, he left.
At that moment, a knock came from the open ward door. The numb-looking Sophie seemed startled; she turned her head and saw that it was the caregiver who had always looked after Sarah. "Miss Sophie, this is something Mrs. Sarah asked me to give you yesterday afternoon."
Sophie lifted her head and looked into her eyes. "Mom asked you to give this to me? Did she say anything else?" The caregiver shook her head, handed Sophie a small document envelope, and then left the room.
Opening the envelope, Sophie found a letter inside, along with the necklace her mother had worn for years, and an old, yellowed photograph.
The photo had clearly been taken in a dimly lit place. It showed two women and one naked male infant who wasn't yet dressed. After examining it carefully, Sophie determined that one of the young women was her mother, Sarah. She was lying in a hospital bed with the infant resting on her chest. The expression on her mother's face could only be described as proud. The other woman, dressed in a nurse's uniform, was only partially visible—half her face showing—as she stood smiling broadly by the bedside, talking with her mother.
Sophie realized this was a photo taken in the hospital right after her mother had given birth, snapped by a nearby doctor or nurse. But what puzzled her was that her mother had always told her she had miscarried her own child—which was why she had adopted Sophie. So who was this male infant? Had he died young, or been lost somehow?
Sophie shook her head, then picked up her mother's necklace from beside her—the one she had always worn. She opened the locket pendant at the bottom. On the left side was a photo of her and her mother together. On the right—