Three days later, Claire stormed into the hospital wearing sunglasses and heavy perfume.
“Mom is devastated,” she said.
“I am recovering nicely. Thank you for asking.”
She ignored the remark.
“You cannot punish everyone because she set a boundary.”
“A boundary?” I looked toward Noah, who was stacking cups on the floor. “She refused to help after I nearly died.”
Claire lowered her voice.
“Restore the payments, and we can discuss a schedule.”
“We?”
Her smile tightened.
“You need us now.”
Then she placed a folder on top of my blanket.
The first page was a temporary power of attorney. The second transferred control of my company voting rights to Claire during my “incapacity.” The third gave her authority to borrow against my shares.
“You came to help me sign paperwork?”
“It protects the family. You are on narcotics and clearly emotional.”
She had already marked every signature line.
I allowed my hand to shake as I lifted the documents. Claire confused physical pain with surrender and leaned closer.
