I pulled out my phone and dialed the hospital’s main line.

The line rang three times before a receptionist answered.

“St. Jude’s, how can I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to Dr. Chen,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“This is Jake Miller. My wife is Megan Miller.”

“One moment, please.”

The hold music was a soft, grating piano tune.

I gripped the steering wheel with my free hand, watching the snow accumulate on the hood.

The music stopped, and a man’s voice came on the line.

“Mr. Miller,” Dr. Chen said.

His voice was smooth, professional, and entirely calm.

“I understand you have some concerns about your wife’s transfer.”

“You can’t transfer her,” I said. “I am her husband, and I do not consent.”

“Mr. Miller, your mother has provided us with the power of attorney documents,” Dr. Chen said.

“They were signed by you and your wife last year.”

“Those are forged,” I said, my voice cracking. “I am holding the copies right now.”

“I have the originals here, Mr. Miller,” Dr. Chen said.

“They are notarized.”