I was under anesthesia when it wore off too early. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I heard my son’s wife tell the surgeon: “If something goes wrong, don’t call her lawyer. Call me first.”

The anesthesia began fading long before the surgery was over.

At first, I thought I was dreaming.

Everything around me felt distant and heavy, like I was floating underwater while the world continued somewhere far above. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t move my hands. Even breathing felt borrowed, controlled by the machines surrounding me.

Then I heard her voice.

“If something goes wrong,” Vanessa whispered, smooth and cold, “don’t call her lawyer. Call me first.”

The words cut through the haze instantly.