I held the cup for a few seconds.
“Derek.”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Look at me.”
He did.
I gave him the faintest smile.
Then I let my hand tremble and spilled the entire cup across the sheet.
Derek shot to his feet.
“Elena!”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’m so tired.”
For one second, rage flashed across his face. Then the mask returned.
“It’s okay. I’ll bring another.”
“No,” I said.
He froze.
“I want to sleep.”
He studied me, calculating. Should he insist? Force it? Wait?
Finally, he touched my cheek.
“Rest. I’ll be back soon.”
When he left, I called Attorney Whitman again.
This time, he answered.
“Elena, listen carefully. A forensic specialist is coming with us, and an assistant district attorney is on the way. Don’t eat, don’t drink, don’t sign anything. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Your father left legal authorization for review if your medical condition ever raised suspicion tied to financial interest. We’ve activated everything.”
For the first time in weeks, I felt air enter my lungs.
I was not alone.
An hour later, three people entered my room: Attorney Whitman, a woman in a gray suit named Dr. Harper, and a man named Daniel Price from the district attorney’s office. They moved fast. Dr. Harper examined my IV line, requested my records, collected samples from the wet sheet, and ordered every unregistered substance removed from my room. Daniel spoke to hospital administration in a tone that made it clear this was no longer a private family issue.
Derek returned as a nurse was clearing the table.
“What is going on?” he demanded.
“Independent medical and legal review,” Whitman said.
“I’m her husband.”
“Exactly,” Daniel replied.
Derek looked at me—not like a wife now, but like a problem.
“Elena, what did you do?”
I was still weak. Still shaking. But I was no longer helpless.
“The same thing you did,” I said. “I stopped trusting.”
Dr. Harper lifted the sealed bag with the stained sheet.
“This will be analyzed,” she said. “So will her treatment history, outside substances, and anything administered by family members beyond hospital protocol.”
Derek laughed nervously.
“My wife is dying.”
Dr. Harper didn’t blink.
“That has not been proven. What has been proven is that someone wanted it to look inevitable.”
His face changed. The mask was cracking.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. “She’s confused.”
“Then you should have nothing to fear,” Daniel answered.
Derek leaned toward me, voice low.