Chapter 13 - Arthur’s Decline
The inevitable phone call came at two in the morning.
Clara rushed to the private hospital wing where Arthur had been admitted.
The doctors stood outside his room, their faces grim and professional.
“His heart is failing, Mrs. Miller,” the lead physician explained softly.
“We are keeping him comfortable, but it is only a matter of hours.”
Clara walked into the dimly lit room, her heart breaking at the sight of him.
Arthur looked incredibly fragile, surrounded by beeping machines and IV drips.
He opened his eyes slowly and managed a faint, tired smile.
“Don't cry for me, Clara,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
“I lived a long life, and I finally did one thing right at the end.”
Clara held his cold hand, tears streaming down her face.
“You changed our lives, Arthur, you saved us.”
“No, you saved me from dying alone,” he corrected her gently.
Suddenly, the door burst open and Beatrice stormed in, followed by Richard.
“We demand to see him!” Richard shouted at the nurses.
“We are his next of kin!”
Arthur’s grip tightened weakly on Clara’s hand.
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“Get them out,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
“Get them out of my sight.”
