I looked through the glass wall of Caleb’s ICU room. He was still sleeping, one hand curled beside his face, his dark lashes resting against pale skin.
“Incapacitated?” I repeated.
“Yes, ma’am. She said your son’s surgery had caused you to have a breakdown. Your sister supported the claim.”
I almost laughed. It came out only as breath.
“They didn’t come to the surgery.”
Silence followed.
“I’m very sorry,” Harold said. “Because of the freeze you placed yesterday, the withdrawal did not process. However, they became aggressive with staff. Your mother also demanded access to your safe deposit box.”
My spine straightened.
“My safe deposit box?”
“Yes.”
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