The pieces clicked together with horrible clarity. The surgery I’d had. They’d insisted on handling all my paperwork afterward. The power of attorney documents they’d brought to the hospital, claiming it was “just temporary.” The way my financial adviser had stopped returning my calls.

“David,” I said carefully, setting down my glass. “I’d like to go back to shore now.”

That’s when his mask slipped completely. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, Mom.” His voice was different now. Harder. “See, we need to have a conversation about your health. About your memory issues.”

“Memory issues? I’m sharper than both of you combined.”

“You’ve been showing signs of dementia,” Vanessa added, stepping closer. “We have it documented. The doctors agree you’re no longer capable of managing your financial affairs.”

“That’s absurd.” But even as I said it, I realized how carefully they’d orchestrated this. The boat was miles from shore. No other vessels in sight.

“Mom, we’re trying to help you,” David said, but his eyes were cold as winter. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”