Twenty minutes later, I entered Daniel’s private hospital room carrying an envelope that appeared to contain the transfer paperwork.
His bed was empty.
For one terrible second, I thought something had happened to him.
Then I looked toward the window.
Daniel was standing there in jeans and a fitted shirt.
There was no weakness in his posture. No pain in his face. No sign of the man who had supposedly been fading away for three weeks.
He looked strong enough to lift Vanessa—his former assistant—off the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
Elaine sat comfortably in a chair nearby, drinking coffee as though nothing unusual was happening.
There was no oxygen equipment.
No medical monitor.
No trembling hands.
No dying husband.
Daniel froze the moment he saw me.
Vanessa slowly loosened her arms and stepped away from him.
Elaine did not appear embarrassed or frightened.
She simply smiled.
