“Everything,” I said.
I spent the next ten minutes laying out the entire, horrifying blueprint of Greg’s betrayal. David didn’t interrupt once.
When I finally finished, the silence on the line was deadly.
“Does Sarah currently have a Last Will and Testament?” David asked, his voice slipping into a sharp, predatory legal register.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably whatever Greg forced her to sign.”
“Find out,” David commanded. “If she doesn’t, or if Greg controls it, we are drafting a new one tonight. I am sending you a bulletproof template right now. Get two independent medical witnesses. Get a mobile notary to the hospice by dawn. Furthermore, we are initiating an immediate insurance dispute and filing formal fraud concerns before he even attempts to file a death claim. Martha, we aren’t just protecting her remaining money.”
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“We are building irrefutable legal intent,” David said darkly. “We are going to financially crucify him.”
Just as I hung up the phone, a piercing, high-pitched alarm echoed from the hallway outside. It was coming from Room 107. Sarah’s cardiac monitor was flatlining.
I sprinted down the hallway, bursting through the door of Room 107. Brenda was already at the bedside, adjusting the oxygen flow and stabilizing the IV lines. The horrific blaring of the monitor ceased, returning to a weak, fragile rhythm.
“False alarm,” Brenda breathed, wiping sweat from her forehead. “A sensor slipped off her chest. But her vitals are dropping, Martha. She doesn’t have much time.”
