“Those are family documents.”
“They are now part of the incident record,” Mike said.
She stopped with her fingers above the folder.
I looked at the papers spread beneath it. The first page had my name printed near the top. Beneath it was language about relinquishment, followed by signature lines that Vivian had treated as though my pen could simply rearrange who Leo belonged to.
“These are the papers you wanted me to sign.”
Vivian looked at me.
“They would make the arrangement clear.”
“They do not transfer my
parental rights.”
She said nothing.
Mike picked up the folder by its edge.
“I need these preserved exactly as they are.”
Vivian stepped toward him.
“You cannot take family papers.”
“I can preserve documents connected to a hospital incident.”
He placed the folder into a clear sleeve the nurse brought from the supply cabinet.
The room had become smaller without anyone moving the furniture.
