"And she gave all the emergency money to an outsider? No—I need to call her and sort this out!"
That was exactly why I'd come: to let them hear the truth for themselves.
The call connected almost instantly, and Naomi's voice came through laced with irritation.
"Mom, I'm busy. Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm done."
Margaret hadn't even gotten a single word out before the line went dead.
She stared at the phone, stunned.
She pressed redial. This time it rang for a long while before Naomi finally picked up.
"Mom, I already told you I'm busy—I'm in the middle of an important business meeting!"
"What could possibly be so urgent it can't wait? You and Grant keep calling one after the other—it's endless!"
Naomi sounded thoroughly annoyed.
Margaret couldn't hold back her anger any longer.
"Wait until you're done?" she demanded.
"Do we have to wait until your father is dead before you'll stop long enough to talk to us?!"
A few seconds of silence hung on the line before Naomi's voice returned.
"What's that supposed to mean? Did Grant go running to you again?"
"Yes. Grant is standing right beside me."
Margaret looked at her husband's gaunt face, her voice trembling.
"He told us everything. Naomi, your father—"
"Mom." Naomi cut her off. "Let me guess. You're about to tell me Dad is seriously ill, lying in a hospital bed, and he desperately needs a huge sum of money to survive?"
"And that money just so happens to be the money I transferred?"
She spoke slowly, every word dripping with sarcasm.
Margaret had still harbored some doubt about what I'd told her—until she heard her daughter's reaction. A chill crept through her, bone-deep.
"What nonsense are you spouting? This is real! Your father is genuinely sick!"
Naomi didn't believe a word of it.
"I figured Grant was just being petty, making up stories to claw the money back."
"But I never imagined you'd all team up to con me over it."
"Mom, when did you become like this?"
I stood off to the side, watching the color flood Margaret's face in an instant—watching her sputter with helpless fury. All I felt was resignation.
"That money was seed funding for the company's R&D," Naomi continued. "Robert is a professional. I've reviewed every plan and assessment he put together."
"Once the R&D succeeds, the company's value will multiply several times over!"
"Dad gets a physical every year and he's perfectly healthy. Stop using him to guilt-trip me—it won't work!"
Cough—cough cough cough—
From the hospital bed, Luke—silent until now—suddenly began coughing up blood.
His eyes drifted toward his wife's phone. The last flicker of hope in them died.
"Luke?" Margaret rushed to his side.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
The blood spreading across the white sheets sent her into a panic so total she could barely stand.
It was the first time the severity of Luke's condition truly hit me.
The doctor had already explained that he was in the mid-to-late stages. If he wanted to survive, he'd need surgery and a prolonged course of imported specialty medication—costs far beyond what any ordinary person could bear.
The call was still connected. Naomi had heard the chaos on our end.
She was about to ask what was happening when Robert's voice cut in from her side.
"Naomi, this is Mr. Wang."
She hesitated—then chose Robert.
Luke's condition deteriorated sharply, worsened by what his daughter had said. It took over an hour of emergency treatment before the medical team managed to stabilize him.
But this time, he was moved into the ICU.
The costs were about to climb significantly higher.
Margaret stood outside the ward, frantic, calling Naomi over and over. Every attempt went straight to voicemail—the phone was off.
To save Luke's life, I gritted my teeth and made a decision.
"I'll sell the company. That should free up around twenty million dollars."
