Chapter 187
KASMINE.
I stood before the Leropita Psychiatric Hospital for over five minutes, unable to make a decision whether I wanted to go in or not.
The building seemed too cold and clinical, with its pale grey walls and tall glass windows that reflected nothing but the dull, overcast sky. It smelled like rain was coming, the wind carrying the sharp smell of damp pavement and antiseptic.
My fingers curled tightly around the strap of my handbag.
Would they even let me access Kester’s files?
Would I find what I was looking for?
My hands suddenly became clammy, and my heart picked up speed as I stared at the entrance of the hospital..
It was a bit too quiet, too.
Of course, not many people experience mental issues every single day. At least, so I thought.
I exhaled, shoving the doubt aside.
I clutched my handbag closely, the strap sitting
premises.
tightly on my shoulder as I entered the
The lobby was cleaner than I expected, almost disturbingly pristine. The walls were white, the floors polished to a shine, and the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and something medicinal and stale, like the lingering ghosts of old prescriptions.
A receptionist sat behind a high desk, her name tag identifying her as Melissa. She looked to be in her late thirties, her dark brown hair pulled into a tight bun, her expression
indifferent as she tapped away at her computer.
I approached, swallowing the dryness in my throat.
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Chapter 187
“Good morning,” I greeted, my voice coming out smoother than I felt.
She barely spared me a glance. “How can I help you?”
I guess I wasn’t so popular after all.
I hesitated for half a second, then forced the words out. I’m here for some records. I need
to confirm if someone completed their therapy sessions.”
Melissa finally looked up, her brows pulling together. “Are you a relative?”
I straightened my shoulders. “Yes.”
She gave me a tight–lipped smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sorry, but we don’t release patient records to family members without proper authorization. It’s against hospital policy.”
I expected that response, but it still irritated me. I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.
“I understand that. But this is important. It’s about my brother, Kester.”
The moment his name left my lips, I saw the shift. Her posture stiffened, her fingers pausing over the keyboard.
She knew exactly who I was talking about. And now she knew who I was.
“He was admitted here years ago, I continued, watching her carefully. “I just need to confirm if he completed his sessions.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I… I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, ma’am.”
The forced politeness. The sudden tightness in her voice. The she glanced briefly
toward the security cameras as if someone might be watching told a lot.
1 clenched my jaw, my skin prickling with frustration.
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked, tilting my head.
She quickly dropped her gaze, reaching for a random folder on her desk and flipping through it with exaggerated focus.
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“I’ve already told you that patients‘ records are confidential.”
“And I’m telling you,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous quiet, “that I have a right to know. He’s not just anyone. He’s the Alpha of our pack. The people in this hospital know that. You know that. So why are you pretending otherwise?”
Frustration bubbled beneath when she said nothing else.
Think, Kasmine.
I needed another approach.
I reached into my bag, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper I had prepared in case of resistance.
“This is a signed request from our family lawyer. I’m not asking for detailed medical records, just a confirmation of whether or not he completed his therapy.”
Melissa barely glanced at it. “That won’t be enough, she said flatly.
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