While she was actively dying, he’d coerced her into signing away her marital rights.

“Why didn’t anyone stop this?” I demanded, my voice shaking with fury.

“He isolated her completely. The admission papers barred us from contacting unlisted family without patient consent. Three days ago, Sarah had a brief, lucid interval.

She fought through the pain, asked for her phone, found your contact, and begged me to call you.”

A coldness settled deep into my marrow. It wasn’t the hot, erratic burn of sudden anger. It was a surgical, precise, permanent ice.

“I need a computer,” I said. “Right now. And I need copies of every single financial billing statement he left with this facility.”