Chapter 8 - Before Surgery
Elise hated hospitals because everyone touched her feet.
“Why?”
Thomas asked.
“Because they say ‘Can you feel this?’”
“Can you?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you say?”
“Sometimes.”
He smiled.
“Difficult patient.”
“I’m four.”
“Strong defense.”
The surgery involved correcting progressive hip displacement and improving sitting alignment.
The orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Melissa Grant, made expectations clear.
“This is not surgery to make Elise walk.”
Thomas nodded.
“It aims to protect comfort and positioning long-term.”
Clare asked:
“Could she walk someday?”
Dr. Grant answered carefully.
“Her neurologic function is limited. Assisted standing may remain possible. Independent walking is unlikely based on current level, but children surprise us in both directions. We plan for function, not promises.”
Thomas appreciated her.
No miracle language.
Elise sat on exam table.
“Will I still have wheels?”
“Yes,” Dr. Grant said.
“Good.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You like chair?”
“It’s fast.”
She demonstrated by nearly clipping his shoe.
The adoption agency approved a pre-placement transition plan but not final foster placement until after surgery because changing homes during recovery could destabilize care.
Thomas was frustrated.
Then ashamed.
Elise’s timeline was not his impatience.
They visited daily.
Clare began bringing books.
Not toys.
Elise already received too many donated toys from people uncomfortable with silence.
Clare read.
Badly.
She changed voices for every character.
Elise criticized.
“That bear doesn’t sound like that.”
“It’s fictional.”
“You’re wrong.”
Thomas watched them.
Something in Clare had loosened.
One afternoon Elise dropped Bear.
Clare picked him up.
“Can I fix his ear?”
Elise snatched him.
“No.”
“Okay.”
No offense.
Two weeks later, Elise handed Bear to her.
“The blue thread is coming out.”
Clare took him gently.
“I can sew.”
“My mom sewed.”
Clare stopped.
“Do you remember?”
“She fixed him.”
Clare nodded.
“Then we use blue.”
Not matching gray.
Blue.
Because Mara had.
That night Clare cried in car.
“She trusted me with the bear.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t deserve how much that meant.”
Thomas did not answer.
Some things do not need correction.
The surgery went well.
No complication.
Pain significant.
Elise woke angry.
“Take it off.”
Thomas leaned near.
“Take what off?”
“My legs.”
He almost laughed from relief.
Clare did.
Elise glared.
“Not funny.”
“No,” Clare said. “Sorry.”
Thomas stayed overnight because St. Michael’s allowed approved transition adults to rotate with caregivers.
Clare stayed second night.
On third morning Elise woke and asked:
“Where’s Thomas?”
“At home showering.”
“He left?”
“He’s coming back.”
“How do you know?”
“He texted.”
Elise thought.
“Show me.”
Clare showed.
Thomas: Parking in twenty. Tell the dictator I have French toast.
Elise smiled.
Trust.
Small.
Specific.
Twenty minutes.
He arrived in eighteen.
Then a news van appeared outside hospital.
Someone leaked the paternity case.
Headline online:
BILLIONAIRE LAWSON SEEKING ADOPTION OF LATE COFOUNDER’S DISABLED HEIRESS.
Thomas felt sick.
The exact story Mara feared.
Sarah immediately sought privacy protections.
The hospital restricted visitors.
St. Michael’s issued no comment.
Thomas released one statement through counsel:
Elise Harper is a minor child. Her medical and adoption matters are private. Financial proceedings are being handled independently by court-appointed counsel. Mr. Lawson has no control over Elise’s trust and will not seek it.
Clare read.
“People will still say money.”
“Yes.”
Elise did not know.
Good.
Then Sarah traced the first article’s source.
Reporter refused to reveal confidential source.
But the article quoted a phrase found only in Voss’s objection filing before it became publicly accessible through clerk delay.
“Posthumous opportunistic paternity claim.”
Someone with direct access leaked.
Voss denied.
No proof.
Then adoption agency received three anonymous complaints.
Thomas was “using Elise for publicity.”
Clare was “emotionally unstable after losing her daughter.”
Their marriage was “on verge of collapse.”
Two were subjective.
One included a private fact:
Clare had been prescribed sleep medication for three months after Emma’s death.
Confidential.
Very few people knew.
Clare stared at complaint.
“Graham knew.”
Thomas looked.
“How?”
“He handled insurance paperwork after Emma died.”
Voss had access to too many pieces of their lives.
May you like
But suspicion was not evidence.
Yet.
