Dr. Pell sat beside the bed with a leather case on his lap. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his voice held the patient kindness he used whenever someone else was listening.

“Lenora, we need to discuss your final wishes.”

Silas stood behind him.

“There is no need to upset her,” he said.

Dr. Pell nodded sadly.

“I understand, but certain decisions must be made.”

He opened the case and removed several pages.

The words blurred when I tried to read them.

Silas took my hand.

“This only allows me to make medical choices when you can’t.”

Dr. Pell placed a pen beside my fingers.

“It will spare your husband from delays during a painful time.”

I looked at the paper.

Then I looked at Silas.

“What choices?”

His thumb moved slowly over the back of my hand.

“Comfort. Treatment. What happens if your heart stops.”

My eyes went to Dr. Pell.

He avoided them.

“I’m not signing.”

Silas’s hand became still.

Dr. Pell closed the case.

“There is no need to decide today.”

After he left, Silas remained beside the bed.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then he bent close.

“You have seven days, Lenora.”

His voice was soft enough that no one outside the room could hear.

“Do you really want to spend them making everything harder?”

I let my eyelids fall.

Silas mistook my silence for weakness.

“You cannot take the house with you.”

He waited, perhaps hoping I would argue.

I did not.

The calmer I became, the more he spoke.

He complained about the years he had wasted waiting for me to sell.

He complained about my father.

He complained that the estate accounts required my approval before large amounts could be moved.

Then he said something that made every cold part of me colder.

“By next week, none of that will matter.”

The recorder captured every word.

That night, I pretended to sleep when Dr. Pell entered with Silas.

The room was dark except for the light above the sink.

Silas stood near the window, his back to me.

Dr. Pell checked my chart.

“She refused the paperwork.”

“She’ll sign tomorrow.”

“You said that today.”

“She can barely lift her head.”

“That does not mean she lacks judgment.”

Silas turned toward him.

“You told me seven days.”

“That was an estimate.”

“I don’t need estimates.”

Dr. Pell lowered his voice.

“The tests are getting worse.”

“Then increase whatever you’re giving her.”

A long silence followed.

My heart beat so hard that I feared the monitor would betray me.

Dr. Pell spoke first.

“We agreed that everything would appear natural.”

Silas stepped closer.

“And it will.”

“What about the drink?”

“She stopped taking it.”

“Then do not bring it here again. The hospital keeps records.”

Silas cursed under his breath.

Dr. Pell closed the chart.

“Once she signs, I can move her to the private floor. Fewer staff. Fewer questions.”

“And if she does not sign?”

Dr. Pell looked toward the bed.

I kept my breathing slow.

“She will become less alert.”

They left two minutes later.

I did not open my eyes until the hallway was quiet.

My hands were shaking.

Not because I was afraid of dying.

Because I finally understood that I might not have been dying at all until Silas decided I should.

The recorder’s red light still glowed beneath the mattress.

I reached for the call button.

The young nurse answered.

“I need the woman who worked here last night.”

“What was her name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did she look like?”

“Dark hair. Gray near the front. About fifty-five.”

The nurse frowned.

“We had several float nurses last night.”

“Please find her.”

“I’ll ask.”

She never returned with an answer.

The following day, Silas did not bring flowers.

He brought a woman named Daphne Cross.

He introduced her as an estate adviser.

I had seen her once before at a charity dinner, standing too close to Silas near the terrace doors. When I approached, she had quickly moved away.

Now she entered my hospital room wearing a cream coat and a sad expression that did not reach her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Lenora.”

She held my hand as though we were old friends.

Silas placed several documents on the table.

Daphne explained that certain bills needed to be paid and certain employees needed temporary authority to keep the estate running.

“It is only until you recover,” she said.

Silas looked at her.

Daphne corrected herself.

“Or until matters are settled.”

I let my head sink deeper into the pillow.

“What matters?”

Silas smiled gently.

“The ordinary things you shouldn’t have to worry about.”

He held out a pen.

I let my fingers close around it.

Daphne’s eyes brightened.

Silas moved the first page closer.

The heading was large enough for me to read.

Temporary Estate Authority.

I dragged the pen slowly across the signature line.

Nothing appeared.

Silas frowned.

He shook the pen and gave it back to me.

Again, I moved it over the paper.

Still nothing.

“I’ll get another one,” Daphne said.

“No.”

Silas’s voice was sharper than he intended.

He reached into his coat and pulled out his own pen.

Before he could place it in my hand, the door opened.

An orderly entered to take me for another scan.

Silas stepped aside with obvious anger.

“We are in the middle of something.”

“Radiology has been waiting.”

“Cancel it.”

The orderly looked at my chart.

“Dr. Han ordered it.”

Silas glanced at Dr. Pell’s name on the board.

“Who is Dr. Han?”

“A consulting physician.”

“I did not approve another doctor.”

The orderly’s face remained calm.

“The patient requested one.”

Silas looked at me.

I closed my eyes.

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