Page 34 of A Prescription to My Heart

I head to Marigold’s room, but a corner away, stop short.

Voices filter through the corridor. Low, serious. Unfamiliar.

I slow my steps.

“…we need to be prepared. He won’t make it easy.” A man’s voice, deep and clipped.

“I know,” a woman replies. “But we have rights. She’s our granddaughter, and Soren… he isn’t exactly the most stable person.”

My heart stutters.

Soren. Marigold.

I move closer, staying just out of sight.

“Thank goodness the nanny called. We should contact a lawyer,” the man continues. “This accident only proves how reckless he is. We should have full custody.”

My breath catches, my stomach knotting.

“I told you he’s unfit,” a woman hisses. “She could have been seriously hurt.”

I recognize that tone before I even see her. It’s the same one I’ve heard from grieving families, from people demanding answers they’ll never be satisfied with.

I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but the way she says “he’s unfit” makes my stomach twist.

“We need to act now,” she continues. “Before it’s too late.”

I shift slightly, peering around the corner.

An older woman stands stiffly, arms crossed over a tailored blazer, her dark hair swept into a precise twist. Her husband, a tall man with graying temples, stands beside her, his jaw tight.

Soren’s in-laws. “We need to take Marigold away from him before she comes to more harm,” his mother-in-law says.

“I already spoke to Leonard,” Soren’s mother-in-law goes on. “He thinks we have a case for full custody. An emergency hearing would be simple enough to arrange.”

Acase?Full custody?

My pulse stumbles.

I glance toward Marigold’s room, my chest tightening. I remember the way Soren held her earlier, the sheer panic in his eyes, the way his hands hovered like he needed to keep touching her just to make sure she was still there.

“Camille,” the man murmurs, sounding hesitant. “Are you sure about this?”

Camille exhales sharply. “She needs stability, Patrick. She needs proper guardianship, not a workaholic father who can’t even be home for his own child while a string of nannies barely takes care of her. .”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Sorendoeswork too much—I won’t argue that. But the way he looks at Marigold? The way he held her when she came in, like he’d die if something happened to her? No lawyer, no judge, no argument could convince me that Marigold doesn’t belong with him.

Patrick sighs. “Camille, this is a delicate situation.”

“No, it’s not,” she snaps. “It’s simple. Marigold would be better off with us, and I won’t stand by and watch her suffer just because her father refuses to prioritize her.”

My fingers curl into a fist.

I don’t know Soren well. I don’t evenlikehim most of the time. But I know, without a doubt, that Marigold isn’t suffering—she’s loved.

And Soren needs help.

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