“Dad?”

The aged man looked at Myra weakly. Slumped in a wheelchair, her father looked the oldest he had ever been in the last decade. No words came from his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.

Myra didn’t remember the last time she had seen him face to face. Because of living in different areas, she would often send him text messages to remind him to take his vitamins and prescriptions, but most of the time, Alfred sent instructions through his right-hand man, Will. She now wondered if he had been sick. At her father’s orders, Will had a close eye on her movements.

Then it all stopped.

Myra...