When she heard the door, she turned her head.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the boys.

“Lucas,” she whispered.

“Owen.”

The boys broke away from my hands and ran to the side of the bed.

They were careful not to touch the wires.

“We brought you your bears,” Owen said, holding his up.

Claire reached out a trembling hand and touched his cheek.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she said.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

I walked to the other side of the bed and stood near her.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Better,” she said, looking up at me.

Her eyes searched my face.

She could tell something was wrong.

“You look tired, Daniel,” she said.

“I am fine,” I said.

“I made some decisions.”

She looked at the boys, who were showing her the drawings they had made at home.

“What decisions?” she asked quietly.

“I fired Arthur,” I said.

Claire’s hand stopped moving.

She looked at me with concern.

“He was the family attorney for twenty years,” she said.

“He was working with the board behind my back,” I said.