Chapter 1
My dad was in critical condition, lying in the ICU with a tube down his throat.
A lawyer showed up with a will and told me to sign, said it was what my dad wanted.
I skimmed it. Three apartments, two companies, three million dollars in savings, all of it left to his illegitimate son.
For me, there was only one line: [Live well.]
A nurse asked if we should keep trying to save him. The bill was already a hundred thousand in the red.
I looked at the will and suddenly laughed.
On the phone, his illegitimate son said, "Wait for me. I'm on my way. Do whatever it takes to keep my dad alive."
I signed the form and withdrew treatment.
*****
My name was Claire Newton.
My father was Richard Newton.
At that moment, he lay in the ICU, his body covered in tubes.
The machines beeped in a steady rhythm, as if counting down the time he had left.
A man in a black suit stood before me, Julian Mason, my father's personal lawyer.
"Ms. Newton, my condolences."
His voice was as cold as he was.
He handed me a document.
"This is Mr. Newton's will. He'd like you to sign to confirm."
I took it and looked down at the title: [Will.]
It was thin, just two pages.
I skimmed through it.
Three properties, all left to Lucas.
Shares in two companies, all to Lucas.
Three million dollars in the bank, all to Lucas.
Lucas Newton, the illegitimate son my father had kept outside for more than twenty years.
My eyes moved down, searching for my name.
I found it in the last line.
"I hope my daughter Claire will live well in the future."
That was it.
That was everything he had left me.
A single, weightless line telling me to live well.
I almost laughed.
For over twenty years, I had taken care of him like a live-in maid.
When he got sick, I was the one who rushed him to the hospital.
When he needed money, I had sold the only apartment my mother, Catherine, had left me to cover the holes in his company.
And now he was dying.
He had given everything to the son who only ever called him "Dad" over the phone.
And all I got was a blessing.
How fitting.
"Ms. Newton?"
Julian's voice pulled me back, tinged with impatience.
"If you have no objections, please sign here."
He pointed to the blank line at the bottom.
A nurse walked over, looking uneasy.
"Ms. Newton, your father's medical bills are already a hundred thousand dollars overdue.
"Do you want to continue treatment, or," she trailed off, but the meaning was clear.
Keep going, and it would be an endless drain.
Stop, and he would be gone soon.
My phone vibrated.
The screen showed Lucas Newton.
I answered.
His voice came through thick with tears, urgent and strained.
"Sis, you have to save my dad.
"I booked the earliest flight. I'll be there the day after tomorrow. You can't give up on him.
"Money isn't an issue. I'll pay whatever it takes. Just keep him alive."
Sis?
He said it so naturally.
I looked at the will in my hand, then at the man on the hospital bed, barely clinging to life.
His eyes were closed. He had no response to anything around him.
The doctor had said he was in a vegetative state, beyond saving.
Only those cold machines were keeping his heart beating.
I started to laugh.
I laughed until my eyes stung.
"Claire?" Lucas sounded alarmed. "Are you there? Why are you laughing?"
I didn't answer him.
I turned to the nurse and spoke calmly.
"I'm withdrawing treatment."
The nurse froze.
Julian did too.
On the other end, Lucas let out a stunned, disbelieving shout.
"Claire, are you crazy? That's my dad. He's your dad, too."
I hung up.
Silence at last.
I picked up the pen and looked at the other document the nurse had handed me.
Consent to Withdraw Treatment.
"Are you sure you want to sign this?" she asked again, as if giving me one last chance to change my mind.
I nodded. "I'm sure."
I signed my name without hesitation.
Claire Newton.
Two words, written in a quick, decisive hand.
The moment I finished, Julian's phone rang.
He answered, and his expression shifted instantly.
"What? Lucas' flight was canceled because of the weather."
I looked up at him and smiled.
That was unfortunate.
The nurse took the signed form and left to inform the doctor.
A few minutes later, the machines keeping him alive were turned off one by one.
The room fell quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Then the green line slowly flattened.
A harsh alarm cut through the silence.
Richard, my father, was dead.
Julian stared at the flat line, his mouth hanging open in shock.
He had probably never thought I would actually go through with it.
Everyone had always seen me as the Claire who put up with everything, who gave whatever was asked.
They had forgotten something.
Even a cornered rabbit would bite.
And I was no longer who I used to be.