A chill ran through me.
By midday, his lips could move enough to form faint words. I leaned close.
“Christopher… he isn’t waiting for my inheritance,” he whispered weakly. “He is speeding up the process.”
Before I could ask what he meant, footsteps echoed outside.
Christopher entered without knocking.
He wore a tailored gray suit, an expensive watch, and an irritated expression.
“How is our dear patient doing today?” he asked in a casual tone.
“There are no changes at all,” I replied immediately, keeping my voice neutral.
He barely looked at his uncle.
“Good. Dr. Wallace will be arriving at four o’clock. And one more thing, Nora: if your son cries like that through the night again, both of you will need to find another place to live.”
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