Vanessa swept into my bedroom with an armful of white lilies — the kind you send to funerals — a performance staged for any passing staff. Clara was already there, folding fresh towels near the bay window.

“My poor darling,” Vanessa said, projecting toward the open hallway. She set the flowers down with a sigh. “I’ve been doing so much research, Adrian. I spoke with a renowned neurological specialist.

He recommends a residential care center in Switzerland. Clean air. Very peaceful. Exactly what you need.”

I lifted my head from the pillows and let my eyes go vacant. “You want to send me away from my own home?”

“It’s for your own good.” She patted my cheek, and her hand was cold. Then her eyes went to the window, to Clara. “And frankly, we need to reduce the household staff.

Some people around here are getting too attached and forgetting their place.”