“I would never do that,” I said, but the words felt hollow against the weight of what my family had already done.

“They look so much like you,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed again.

“They do,” I said.

The monitor beside her bed began to chime a high, warning tone.

The door behind me swung open, and Dr. Shah stepped into the room with two nurses.

“Mr. Whitmore, I need you to step out,” the doctor said, his voice urgent. “Her blood pressure is dropping again.”

I stood up, holding the envelope tight against my side.

“Claire,” I said, but she did not answer.

One of the nurses gently guided me toward the hallway.

“Please wait outside, sir,” she said.

I stepped back into the corridor, the door closing behind me.

The hallway was quiet, save for the distant sound of a cart rolling down the hall.

I stood there, staring at the frosted glass of the door.

My phone in my coat pocket began to ring.

I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was Ruth, the head housekeeper at the estate.