Chapter 1
Three hours after my C-section, I reached for my newborn son, and my identical twin sister pulled his bassinet out of my reach.
“Don’t touch him, Kathleen.”
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
I was lying in a hospital bed at Pine Hollow Women’s Hospital in Cedar Vale, Ohio. My incision burned whenever I moved. My legs were weak, my mouth was dry, and I hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours.
But all I could think about was my baby.
He was crying.
And my sister was standing between us.
“Colleen, please,” I whispered. “He’s hungry. Just bring him closer.”
My twin looked down at me.
There was no concern in her expression. No sisterly affection. Just a coldness I had never seen before.
“You need to calm down before you hurt yourself or the baby.”
She pushed the bassinet farther away.
I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain tore through my abdomen. I gasped and grabbed the bed rail.
“Stop! You’re hurting me!”
Colleen turned toward the nurses gathered near the counter.
“See what I mean? She’s becoming increasingly agitated.”
I looked at them, waiting for someone to speak up.
One nurse lowered her eyes. Another suddenly became very interested in her clipboard.
Only Erin Goodwin, the young charge nurse assigned to my room, seemed uncomfortable.
But she said nothing.
My sister, Colleen Norwood, was thirty-four, the same age as me. We had identical brown eyes, dark hair, and matching dimples in our left cheeks.
Strangers had confused us our entire lives.
But Colleen had something I didn’t.
She had spent twelve years running the postpartum department at Pine Hollow. She knew every procedure, every hospital policy, and nearly everyone who worked on that floor.
She knew how to make people listen to her.
And she was using that authority against me.
“Colleen, I’m your sister.”
“I know exactly who you are.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
She glanced at my son.
“Because somebody has to put his safety first.”
Those words hurt more than my incision.
My baby boy was someone Glenn and I had waited years to meet. We had spent months choosing his name, painting his nursery, and preparing for the day we’d finally bring him home.
My husband had assembled the crib twice because he wanted everything perfect.
Now, three hours after our son’s birth, my own sister was treating me like a danger to him.
“Please give me my son.”
Colleen folded her arms.
“Not until you’re under control.”
Then she turned toward Erin.
“Discontinue her pain medication.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m supposed to receive another dose. It’s in my treatment plan.”
“Not anymore.”
“Colleen, I just had major abdominal surgery.”
She gave me a small, humorless smile.
“You’ve been asking for medication repeatedly. That’s concerning.”
“I’ve asked for what the doctor prescribed. That’s what patients are supposed to do.”
Colleen raised her voice so everyone in the room could hear.
“Your behavior is consistent with drug-seeking.”
The words seemed to freeze the room.
I had never used illegal drugs. I had never abused prescription medication. I had never even been accused of anything remotely like that.
I was a woman who had undergone surgery to deliver her first child.
And my identical twin was announcing to the nursing staff that I was an addict.
“That’s a lie,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m in pain. You know I’m in pain.”
Colleen turned to Erin.
“Make sure that gets documented.”
Erin picked up her clipboard. I noticed a blue ink stain on her right thumb as she began writing.
“Erin, please. You know I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She glanced at Colleen before answering.
“I just need to follow the department’s instructions.”
Colleen walked to the computer station and opened my medical chart.
“What are you writing?” I asked.
“Documenting your condition.”
“Then document that I’m asking for my prescribed medication.”
She continued typing.
I could see the words on the screen.
Patient displaying drug-seeking behavior. Medication hold authorized by attending physician.
Then I saw the name.
Dr. Beverly Hastings.
My attending obstetrician.
Dr. Hastings had cared for me throughout my pregnancy. She had explained every part of my C-section and reassured Glenn when he became nervous during the delivery.
She had personally discussed my medication schedule before surgery.
But Colleen had entered only abbreviated initials.
“Dr. Hastings didn’t tell you to do that.”
Colleen turned around.
“Are you questioning the doctor’s orders now?”
“She told me my medication schedule before surgery.”
“Things change.”
“Then let me speak to her.”
Colleen closed the chart.
“Your behavior is becoming a problem, Kathleen.”
Before I could answer, Glenn stepped forward.
“That’s enough.”
