It stripped him of all decision-making power over his estate, his finances, and his own medical care.

At the bottom of the last page, there was a signature line for his spouse.

There was a line for my name.

“You want me to sign him away,” I said, looking up at him.

“I want you to face reality,” Jason replied.

He walked around the corner of the desk, stepping closer to me.

I could smell the sharp aroma of the scotch on his breath, mixed with his expensive, woody cologne.

“Ethan is gone, Sarah,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive purr.

“He is breathing,” I said, stepping back until my spine hit the cold wood of the bookshelf behind me.

“A machine is doing that for him,” Jason said.

He stopped just a foot away from me, trapping me between his frame and the tall shelves of old, leather-bound books.

He reached out and tapped the legal document in my hand.

“If you sign this, we can present it to the court next week,” he said.