She Gave My Father's Life Savings to a Con Man

I was away on a business trip when Margaret Abbott called in the middle of the night.

"Grant, your father-in-law has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. The doctors say surgery and specialized medication are his only chance."

When I learned the total cost would run into the millions, I stayed up all night mortgaging both our properties and draining every cent from our savings.

I was planning to visit Luke Fox at the hospital the next morning.

But then I discovered that every dollar I'd scraped together had been transferred away—by my wife.

"Robert told me the company needed funding for a research project. It was the exact amount, so I just gave it all to him."

I demanded an answer. "Do you have any idea what that money was for? It's for your father's treatment—he's terminally ill!"

Naomi Fox scoffed. "Grant Gilbert, if you're going to lie to me, at least make it convincing."

"My dad's perfectly healthy. Don't you dare jinx him."

……

I stared at the phone after the line went dead, then sank onto the couch and sat there in silence for a long time.

The next morning, I called the company's CFO directly.

"Lucas Finch, I need you to check something for me."

"Has Robert Matthews submitted any funding applications recently—anything related to project R&D?"

The reply came almost immediately. "No, Mr. Gilbert. Nothing."

"However, Mrs. Gilbert did approve a $300,000 team-building expense request last week. It's already been disbursed."

What kind of team-building costs three hundred thousand dollars?

I thought about the phone call from last night—the blaring music in the background, the suggestive cheering.

My heart began to sink, inch by inch.

I called Naomi again. This time, it rang for a long while before she picked up.

The background was soft piano music—nothing like the noise from the night before.

"What now?"

Her voice carried a thin edge of impatience.

I forced myself to stay calm, enunciating every word.

"That five million. You need to get it back today."

"The company has no new R&D projects. And your father—"

"Grant Gilbert, are you done?"

Naomi's voice shot up several notches.

"Robert explained everything to me last night. It's a confidential project for a new business direction—of course it wouldn't show up in the regular books."

"Why can't you stand to see someone else succeed?"

All I could manage was a bitter smile. More than anything, I felt pathetic.

"There's no record of it anywhere in finance."

"Ask him right now. Tell him to produce a project proposal—even a rough draft will do."

"If he can, I'll drop it."

"Who are you to investigate him? Who are you to interrogate him?"

Naomi's voice rose to a shout. "My father put up the money to help you start that company. Robert is helping me look after what's mine!"

"You're out running around all the time—have you ever once cared whether the company lives or dies?"

"I'm the one who transferred the money, and I'll take responsibility!"

Her idea of responsibility was a joke.

She wasn't wrong—Luke had invested the original capital to help me get started. That was exactly why I'd mortgaged everything I owned to save his life.

And yet the money I'd raised had been handed off to a stranger by his own daughter.

"You could go to the hospital yourself. Let me send you the address—"

Before I could finish, Naomi let out a derisive laugh.

"Give it a rest. I know my father's health better than you do."

"Robert said we'll see preliminary results in a few days. Then you'll know whether he's a fraud or not."

The line went dead again.

I held the phone up, staring at the screen—at the contact name that read Wife.

For the first time, the word felt like it belonged to a stranger.

I went to the hospital. Luke lay in the bed, pale and diminished. I told them everything.

Luke sighed, over and over, but said nothing.

Margaret was beside herself. "That ungrateful girl. We gave her everything growing up, and now she can't even be bothered when her own father is dying."