Right beside them was a digital hard drive containing hours of audio recordings, encrypted account statements, photographic evidence, and a sealed, notarized letter of instruction addressed to my personal trustee.

The instructions detailed precisely what steps to take the moment I was hospitalized under any circumstances deemed “suspicious.”

The hushed voices outside my curtain shifted. The doctor took a deliberate step closer to Daniel, dropping her voice to a chilling whisper.

“That’s a fascinating theory, Mr. Mercer,” she stated, her words clipping the air. “But it’s quite strange.

Because my medical expertise tells me these burns don’t look accidental in the slightest. And the authorities are already waiting downstairs.”

Beneath the sterile hospital blanket, my index finger twitched, moving barely an inch against the mattress.

It was a minuscule gesture, but the signal was enough.