He slowly extended his gloved hand toward the telephone receiver.

Richard’s gloved index finger descended onto the plastic console.

He pressed the speakerphone button with a slow, deliberate click.

“Hannah?” Ethan’s voice filled the small room, sounding hollow and metallic through the cheap speaker.

“She is listening, Ethan,” Richard said.

He did not raise his voice.

He stood perfectly still, his hand resting on the edge of my bedside table.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Father,” Ethan said, his tone dropping into a cold, dangerous register. “Get away from her.”

“I am having a private conversation with a guest of this hospital,” Richard said.

He glanced down at his leather gloves, smoothing a crease near the thumb.

“A guest who has overstayed her welcome,” he added.

“She isn’t going anywhere,” Ethan said.

I heard the sound of a heavy door shutting in the background of Ethan’s call.

Another voice spoke near the phone on Ethan’s end, muffled and quick.

It was a woman’s voice, professional and sharp.

“Mr. Harrison, this is Dr. Aris, Chief of Clinical Administration,” the woman said.