Page 18 of Manhattan State of Mind

We halt a bit down the hallway.

“Lucy’s condition has changed since this morning,” she informs me.

My throat tightens. “I know. She’s awake.”

“That’s not all.”

I brace myself, dread pooling in my stomach. “What else?”

She takes a deep breath, looking me straight in the eyes. “Lucy’s been diagnosed with retrograde amnesia. It’s a memory disorder as a result of her head injury.”

I recoil, doubting my hearing for a second. “Amnesia? Lucy has amnesia?”

Dr. Ramirez nods. “Yes, her accident impacted her memory.”

“All right,” I say slowly, crossing my arms as I scrutinize her. “What’s the plan to rectify this?”

“Her condition isn’t simple or quick to treat. We’re developing a customized recovery plan for her.”

“So she’s got a fuzzy memory because of the fall? Isn’t that expected?” I try to reason, desperate for some semblance of control.

She clears her throat, seeming to grope for the right words. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that.”

Jesus Christ. Lucy’s got brain damage.

Stay fucking calm.

I fight to keep my voice steady. “Spell it out,” I say, my tone low. “Tell me exactly what we’re dealing with. What can’t she remember?”

Dr. Ramirez meets my gaze steadily. “Based on our initial evaluations, Lucy has lost all memories from this past year.”

Everything goes quiet as I process the bombshell she’s dropped on me.

“You cannot be fucking serious.”

She recoils slightly. “I assure you, Mr. Wolfe, this isn’t a matter I would joke about.”

Incredulous, I struggle to understand. “A year? Just like that, it’s gone? When will she remember?”

“Unfortunately, we can’t make promises,” she says carefully. “We’re initiating a rehabilitation plan, but we cannot guarantee the return of her memories.”

Her words slam into me, leaving me leaning against the wall for support. This can’t be happening.

“After I’ve invested a small fortune into this clinic, you’re telling me you have no goddamn clue if she’ll recover?” My voice echoes down the hospital hallway.

I’ve garnered an audience in the hallway, but I couldn’t care less.

Dr. Ramirez blinks in surprise, her composed mask slipping. “Mr. Wolfe, please understand. Our top neurologists are working on Lucy’s case. We’re doing everything possible, but there are no surefire guarantees when it comes to the human brain. It’s a slow process. Your money can’t speed up her recovery.”

Her platitudes only incense me further. “No, this is unacceptable. There has to be a plan, a procedure to fix this now.”

Her smile is tight. “We can’t fix this kind of damage overnight, Mr. Wolfe.”

Cursing under my breath, I push my fury down. “Sorry,” I grit out. “This is… I’m not handling this well. I need to see her.”

“She’s confused and disoriented. We’re reintroducing familiar faces slowly, with her consent,” she explains.

Frustrated, I run a hand through my hair. “Then tell her I’m here.”