One of the lawyers stepped forward, holding a document.
« Mr. Arthur, your family is concerned about your ability to make medical decisions. We intend to ask the court to appoint your eldest son as your guardian and medical representative. »
« We intend to ask the court. »
« He is perfectly capable of thinking for himself, » I said. « Anyone can see that. »
Gregory turned towards me with a look of pure contempt.
« And who exactly are you? The good Samaritan of the public wing? It’s a family affair. You should leave. »
« She’s staying, » Arthur said softly. « She’s the only one in this room who visits me because she wants to. »
« You should leave. »
Evelyn stepped back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor.
She hadn’t said a single word.
« Dad, be reasonable, » Gregory continued. « There’s a lovely facility up north. Quieter. More suited to your condition. You’d be comfortable there. »
« Isolated, you mean, » Arthur replied. « Cheaper. Where no one would notice how quickly my condition is deteriorating. »
A silence fell over the room.
« Isolated, you mean »
Even the lawyers exchanged a glance.
« You never cared whether I lived or died, » Arthur continued. « What interests you is the accounts. What will be left when I’m gone. »
Gregory clenched his jaw.
« Signing a voluntary transfer of power will allow us to avoid a hearing that would embarrass everyone. »
« What interests you is the accounts. »
They left, leaving their threats hanging in the air.
Arthur took my hand as soon as the door closed.
« They’ll come back with a judge, » he murmured. « They’ll declare me incompetent and send me somewhere I can’t defend myself. »
« Then we’ll fight them first, » I said. « Tell me what you need. »
He remained silent for a long time.
« So, we’ll fight them first. »
When he finally spoke, his words surprised me.
« Marry me. »
« Arthur, people are going to say I’m only after your money. »
« Let them say what they want, » he replied. « If we get married, I can sign a healthcare directive naming you as my medical proxy as long as I’m still of sound mind. A signed directive would protect me from Gregory during my final days. There’s no one I trust more than you. »
« Marry me. »
I looked at his face, marked and desperate.
« You don’t need to love me, » he added softly. « I’m just asking you to protect me. »
« I already do it, » I said. « I’ve been doing it since the first game where you let me win. »
He laughed, a rare laugh that turned into a coughing fit.
« I never let you win. You were always better than me. »
We got married three days later in his suite.
« I’m just asking you to protect me. »
Mr. Vance was our witness.
A chaplain from the institution officiated this small ceremony.
That same afternoon, in front of two other witnesses, Arthur signed the healthcare directive designating me as his medical representative.
Evelyn appeared on the doorstep at the very moment the certificate was being signed.
She watched, silent once more, then slipped away before I could speak to her.
Evelyn appeared on the threshold.
Gregory’s lawyers arrived the following week, brandishing their guardianship application.
“I’m afraid you’re too late,” Mr. Vance told them at the door. “Arthur signed a healthcare directive naming his wife as his medical proxy on their wedding day, when he was of sound mind. That takes precedence over any request to appoint Gregory. It’s legally binding and thoroughly documented.”
Gregory’s face turned red with rage.
But there was nothing he could do about it.
« It’s legally binding. »
He stormed out.
I heard him shouting in the hallway, talking about legal action and fraud.
Arthur simply smiled from his bed.
« Now they can’t do anything to us anymore, » he whispered.
And it was true.
For two years, we lived in this suite like husband and wife, reading aloud to each other in the evening, watching the sun set behind the oak tree in the courtyard.
« Now they can’t do anything to us anymore. »
He passed away peacefully last week.
I thought the storm had subsided with his last breath.
I thought all I had left were memories and the quiet sorrow of a widow.
But a week after the funeral, Mr. Vance arrived at the suite with a large kraft paper envelope.
His gaze was filled with an emotion I couldn’t name.
He asked me to sit down.
He passed away peacefully.
Mr. Vance placed the envelope on the table between us.
« I served your late husband for over thirty years, » he began. « He confided everything in me, including this. »
« Whatever it is, I can handle it. Arthur is gone. Nothing else can hurt me now. »
« That’s where you’re wrong, » he replied gently. « It could change everything about how you see these last two years. It might be hard to accept. »
« He confided everything in me, »
He slid the documents towards me.
My eyes scanned this text written in dense legal jargon.
« I don’t understand those words, Mr. Vance. What am I reading? »
« Arthur didn’t just set aside some personal savings, » he said. « He put the entire retirement home into a trust. The building, the land, everything. And you are the sole beneficiary. »
I stared at her, convinced I had misheard.
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