Tomorrow we’ll show the new version to the notary. He’ll believe it, — my brother said. — We’ll tell him his condition has worsened and he asked me to help him finalize everything.

— The most important thing is that he doesn’t start resisting, — my wife added. — Did you see him yesterday when he walked in? I thought he realized we were preparing something.

My legs nearly gave out. I understood: they wanted to take the house, the savings, and my pension.

And then my wife asked the question that confirmed my worst fears:

— Are you sure his heart can handle it if we keep giving him the double dose?

— It’s not supposed to handle it, — my brother answered quietly. — It’s his own fault for living this long.

I felt everything inside me freeze. I backed away from the door slowly, holding my breath. They didn’t just want to deceive me — they wanted to kill me, under the guise of “treatment.”

I went back to the bedroom, lay down, and pulled the blanket over myself, pretending to sleep, when I heard their steps approaching. My wife quietly opened the door, walked to the nightstand, and placed a glass of water with the dissolved medicine on it.

— Let him sleep deeply, — she whispered. — It won’t be much longer now.