I shrugged.
“Cross-border compliance. The lawyer said if I can’t document my existing assets properly, the settlement could be delayed.”
The word delayed frightened them more than any accusation could have.
Selina smiled.
“We’ll find everything.”
“Everything?”
“Of course.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
Then I picked up my wife.
“Where are you going?” Selina demanded.
“To the hospital.”
“You don’t need to waste money on a private hospital tonight.”
I stopped.
Twenty seconds earlier she had been promising Phedra the best treatment money could buy.
Now her instinct had returned.
I looked over my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Mom. With a million dollars coming, I can afford it.”
She had nothing to say.
That night, Phedra was admitted through an oncology service. She was dehydrated, malnourished and frighteningly weak. Her cancer had progressed during the months her treatment had been interrupted. No doctor promised me a miracle. They talked instead about staging, imaging, bloodwork, nutrition, treatment options and what could realistically still be done. I sat beside Phedra until she fell asleep, then stepped into the hallway and cried for the first time since coming home.
