Anna’s weak voice filled the emergency room through Laura Bennett’s speakerphone.
“Mom…please.
Something is wrong.
I can’t stand up, and the babies haven’t eaten.
Please come for the children.
Camila is scared.”
A crash sounded in the background.
Then the message ended.
No one moved.
Carmen stood beside the hospital bassinets with one hand still raised toward Sophie.
Her polished nails trembled, but her voice remained sharp.
“I never heard that message.”
The deputy on the phone did not argue.
“The voicemail was opened from your account at 8:17 that evening.”
Carmen’s eyes moved toward the exit.
Nurse Margaret quietly pulled Camila behind her.
The seven-year-old’s dirty fingers clutched the nurse’s uniform, but she kept watching her grandmother.
Laura lowered the phone.
“Anna asked you to help three children.
Then Camila came to your house herself.”
“She did not come to my house.”
Camila flinched as if the lie had struck her.
“Yes, I did,” she whispered.
“I knocked until my hands hurt.”
Carmen turned toward her.
“Your mother has taught you to say terrible things about me.”
“My mommy was asleep.”
“She was irresponsible.”
