Chapter 4 - THE RAIN-SLICKED COURTYARDThe afternoon storm broke with ferocious intensity, turning the glass walls of the rehabilitation center into cascading sheets of gray water.
Ava had refused to return to her room. Instead, her wheelchair was parked near the reinforced glass doors of the second-floor solarium, her eyes fixed on the small, open-air maintenance shed across the interior courtyard.
Through the pouring rain, she could see the silhouette of a man working alone under a flickering halogen lamp, welding a broken iron bracket on a storage cart.
Sienna walked up behind her daughter, holding a warm woolen blanket. She draped it gently over Ava’s shoulders.
"You've been staring at him for two hours, sweetheart," Sienna said softly, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
Ava didn't blink. "He's cold."
"He has a jacket, Ava."
"Not that kind of cold," Ava murmured, her fingers gripping the armrests of her wheelchair. "The kind inside. Like the car."
Sienna’s heart skipped a beat. The crash. The night the world went black, the sound of tearing metal, the freezing rain pooling around the wreckage while she screamed for help that took too long to arrive. Ava never talked about the car. Never.
Before Sienna could find the words to answer, the solarium door clicked open.
Dr. Marsh walked in, looking distressed. "Mrs. Ashford, you need to see this. We just received an official directive from the state health board. Due to an anonymous complaint regarding unauthorized personnel interacting with pediatric patients—specifically citing your inquiries into Mr. Ryder—management is placing him on administrative leave effective immediately. He’s being escorted off the premises right now."
Sienna turned sharply toward the window.
Across the courtyard, two security guards in high-vis vests stood near the maintenance shed, speaking sternly to Mason. Mason didn't argue. He slowly laid down his welding torch, pulled off his heavy leather gloves, and wiped his grease-stained hands on his gray shirt.
He looked up across the rain-swept courtyard.
Through the distortion of water and glass, his eyes locked directly onto the second-floor solarium window—specifically onto Ava.
Ava let out a sudden, sharp gasp.
Without thinking, without the paralysis holding her back in her own mind, she shoved her palms hard against the wheels of her chair. The metal wheels spun violently, slamming the chair forward against the glass doors with a terrifying thud.
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"Ava! Stop!" Sienna screamed, lunging forward to grab the handles.
"Open it!" Ava cried out—her voice cracking, raw, and desperate, shouting the first real sentence she had spoken in three years. "Open the door, Mom! He's leaving!"
