The following week, I called a family meeting. My siblings, who lived out of state, joined via video call. I laid out the findings, the discrepancies, and the steps I planned to take. Their reactions varied from disbelief to anger, but ultimately, they supported the need for action.
« We have to protect Dad, » my sister insisted, her voice firm through the digital connection. « Whatever it takes. »
With their backing, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I reached out to the caregiver, requesting another meeting. This time, it would be different. I was armed with evidence and the support of family.
When she arrived, her demeanor was as composed as ever, but there was a subtle shift in her eyes, a flicker of uncertainty. « Is there more you wish to discuss? » she inquired, her voice steady.
« Yes, » I replied, handing her a folder containing the evidence. « We need to reevaluate your role in my father’s care. »
She opened the folder, her expression unreadable as she scanned the documents. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension.
« I see, » she finally said, her tone measured. « Let’s discuss how we can move forward. »
For the first time, her calm veneer showed a crack, and I knew we were finally on the path to reclaiming control.
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