The red numbers on the screen climbed.

“She is not signing anything,” I said.

I crumbled the blue document in my hand.

“Get out of this room, Vance.”

Vance did not move.

“Mr. Whitmore, I suggest you think about your own position,” he said.

“The board is already meeting to discuss your removal.”

“If you align yourself with her, you lose the company.”

“And you lose the trust funds for your sons.”

The threat hung in the sterile air of the room.

Outside, the rain began to patter against the double-paned window.

A cold draft seemed to seep through the glass.

Claire looked down at her hands.

“Daniel,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to ruin your life.”

“Maybe I should just sign it.”

“No,” I said, turning to her.

I sat on the edge of her bed and took both of her cold hands in mine.

“You are not signing away your rights to my children.”

“And you are not letting them paint you as a monster.”

“But the money,” she said. “The hospital.”

“I will pay for it myself,” I said. “I have my own accounts.”