It was dated eleven months earlier.
The signature looked almost identical to mine.
But the date was wrong.
I had been overseas that week.
I remembered exactly where I had been.
I was attending a major international architecture conference in Singapore.
I had not been anywhere near New York.
“Someone forged your signature,” Samuel said.
He looked directly at me.
“And David has already submitted this document to a medical institution.”
I struggled to understand.
WHAT DOES IT AUTHORIZE?
Samuel hesitated.
“Under certain circumstances, it allows him to make medical decisions on your behalf.”
I stared at him.
“Even decisions about whether you receive further treatment.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I selected the letters one by one.
HE IS TRYING TO KILL ME LEGALLY.
Samuel didn’t disagree.
***
The following morning, David brought Jessica back.
This time, she entered without pretending to be an interior designer.
She wore a cream-colored dress and carried a large handbag.
