The question surprised me.
“To stop Daniel.”
“That is what you don’t want.”
She opened a notebook.
“What do you want?”
I stared at the rain sliding down the window.
No one had asked me that in months.
Doctors asked about symptoms.
Daniel asked whether I remembered meetings.
Vanessa asked whether I had eaten.
Mark asked what needed signing.
Gregory asked whether I understood the risks.
But no one asked what I wanted.
“I want my decisions to remain mine,” I said.
Rachel nodded.
“Even bad ones?”
I looked at her.
“Especially bad ones.”
A faint smile appeared.
“That is generally part of being an adult.”
She turned to Elena’s letter.
The court had allowed us a copy.
Elena had written carefully.
She explained that during her final months at my office, she had been helping organize private medical files because I had begun transferring some responsibilities away from the corporate office.
