“And?”
“I was told to stop.”
My stomach twisted.
“What am I supposed to do?”
She looked toward the administrative elevators.
“Go upstairs.”
“To who?”
“Hospital administration.”
THE HOSPITAL OPENED AN INVESTIGATION
The next morning, I told Ethan I was going home to shower.
Instead, I walked directly into administration at Willowcrest Medical Center.
I showed the administrator the photographs.
She studied each one.
Then opened Ethan’s electronic chart.
Her expression changed.
“These reports aren’t here.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked at me.
“It means somebody replaced or altered part of his medical record.”
“Can that happen?”
“Not legally.”
I stared at her.
“If somebody falsified Ethan’s cancer diagnosis…”
She leaned forward.
“…this is no longer just a hospital issue.”
“What is it?”
“A criminal one.”
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Do not tell Ethan you know.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever this plan is…”
She glanced toward the photographs.
“…it may not have happened yet.”
THEN ETHAN ASKED ME TO SIGN PAPERS
That afternoon, I returned to Room 407 carrying soup.
Ethan smiled.
“I’ve been worried.”
“About what?”
“What happens after I’m gone.”
My stomach tightened.
He continued:
“There are documents I need you to sign.”
“What documents?”
“Trust releases.”
“Joint accounts.”
“Financial paperwork.”
He gave me a sad smile.
“If I die and leave you with a legal mess, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I stared at him.
For the first time, everything sounded different.
Not loving.
Calculated.
“You don’t have to deal with that today.”
“I do.”
His voice suddenly became urgent.
“I need everything signed tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be mentally clear.”
There it was.
I looked into Ethan’s face.
Not the dying childhood sweetheart.
A man who needed my signature.
“I’ll bring the documents tomorrow.”
His shoulders relaxed instantly.
“Thank you.”
THE HOSPITAL CALLED ME THAT NIGHT
The administrator’s voice was serious.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“We ran a financial-background check connected to the investigation.”
My hands went cold.
“And?”
“Your husband has debt.”
“How much?”
“Deep into six figures.”
I closed my eyes.
“Gambling?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Personal loans.”
“Credit.”
“Judgments.”
“Collections.”
She paused.
“But there is one thing we are increasingly certain about.”
“What?”
