1 The day my grandson was admitted, I jolted awake—back before it all fell apart. My daughter-in-law, Evelyn, died in the line of duty when Toby was just one. My son, Daniel, and I raised him. He was our whole world. Just before the holiday, I’d arranged for a specialist to do Toby’s surgery. I personally handed the doctor ninety-nine thousand dollars. But that night, Daniel’s voice thundered over the phone: “Dad! Toby’s surgery is tomorrow—why haven’t you paid?!” I didn’t question how the money disappeared. I just wired it again. The next day, the hospital still claimed they hadn’t received payment and were canceling the surgery. Sweating, I pulled the doctor to the billing office. The clerk showed my balance: zero. The specialist scowled. “If you don’t want the surgery, just say so. Don’t waste my time.” Terrified of delaying Toby’s care, I withdrew cash that evening and delivered it myself. But it was too late. The next day, my grandson died because his surgery was postponed. Daniel clutched Toby’s cold little body, sobbing, “Dad, did you hate him that much?” That night, my son set a fire and burned us all alive. Even as the flames took me, I still didn’t understand why the hospital never got my money. … “Grandpa, will the surgery hurt?” A gentle touch on my leg brought me back. I looked down at my grandson’s pale little face and pulled him into a hug, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. He was so small. How could he have died on that cold hospital bed? My mind raced. Why did the money I gave the hospital vanish into thin air? I had checked the card myself. With that thought, I grabbed my son and marched him to the nearest ATM. I confirmed the card held over $100,000 for the treatment. Only then did I feel a sliver of relief. Together, we went to the billing office and handed the card to the clerk on duty. “We’ve paid the fee,” I said, my voice trembling with hope. “Does this mean he can have the surgery tomorrow?” I watched with my own eyes as the clerk processed the payment. A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God. My grandson is going to be okay.” Daniel wrapped his arms around me. “Dad, thank goodness you’re here.” Toby had a rare disease, and our only hope was a consulting surgeon from Chicago. She was a kind woman who refused any extra payment, only urging me to settle the hospital fees quickly. I just never understood why, in my past life, there was never any record of my payment, letting my grandson’s life slip away. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I sent Daniel home to rest and stayed at the hospital by Toby’s side. The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing. It was Daniel, his voice frantic. “Dad, there’s no money on your card! The hospital just called and said I need to pay immediately. If we don’t pay soon, they’re going to cancel his spot!” For a moment, I thought I was mishearing him, trapped in a nightmare. How could the same thing be happening all over again? Before I could hang up, a doctor walked into the room. “You need to go pay the fee now, or it will be too late for the surgery.” I didn’t have time to think. I bolted for the billing office. But when the clerk pulled up my account, the balance was zero. Impossible. Daniel and I had just checked it yesterday! I made the clerk print out the account statement, checking it word by word. It was correct. There was just no money. “There’s something shady going on in this hospital!” I yelled, slamming my hand on the counter. “The card I gave you yesterday was loaded! Give me back my money! That’s my grandson’s lifeline!” The other families in line turned to stare. The clerk’s face flushed with anger. “Don’t make wild accusations, sir. Our system is monitored. We couldn’t take a cent of your money if we wanted to! Look for yourself, you haven’t paid a single bill since you were admitted. We were being generous just letting you stay!” He gestured to the line behind me. “There are other people waiting. Can you please not cause a scene?” The other families, assuming I was harassing the clerk, started to shove me away. I was an old man; I couldn’t argue with a crowd. They pushed me out, and I stood there helplessly, my mind a complete blank. The clerk sighed and led me back to his office. He opened the main system. “Sir, look for yourself. It shows no payment has been made.” “I came here yesterday afternoon,” I pleaded, shaking my head. “Check the security footage. I was really here, with my son. We even checked the balance at the ATM first.” He reluctantly submitted a request to his supervisor. The logs confirmed that I had indeed come to the billing office. But the cameras had a blind spot; they couldn't confirm if the card I’d handed over was the same one we’d checked at the ATM. I wouldn’t give up. The clerk’s patience wore thin. “Sir, if you’re still concerned, you should call the police.” That’s what I was thinking. The police could see details others missed. But before I could dial, Daniel’s call came through. “Dad, you’ve ruined everything,” he choked out. “The surgeon just booked a flight back to Chicago. It leaves in two hours. My son’s surgery is off!” I ran like a madman to the inpatient wing and caught the surgeon just as she was getting into the elevator. She was pulling a suitcase, a look of annoyance on her face. “Sir, it’s not that I don’t want to save your grandson, but the hospital says you haven’t paid. I can’t very well fund the surgery myself, can I?” I grabbed the handle of her suitcase, tears streaming down my face. “Doctor, please, give us one more chance. I’ll pay right now. I’ll do a direct transfer this time, so there’s a record!” She hesitated, glancing at her watch. “My flight boards in an hour and a half. If you can get it done before then, I’ll cancel my ticket.” I thanked her profusely and sprinted back towards the billing office, calling my son on the way. “Daniel, send me your account number! I’ll transfer the money to you directly, and you go pay!” His voice trembled. “Dad, isn’t your card empty?” “It’s not! The hospital’s system is messed up. I’m sending you the money now. The second you get it, go to the billing office. I’m heading there too.” I hung up, opened my banking app, and transferred the last of my savings—over eighty thousand dollars—plus another twenty I’d borrowed from relatives. I sent the full one hundred thousand to Daniel’s account. I took a screenshot and saved it. Panting, I reached the billing office and slapped the counter. “My son is coming to pay right now! Please, hold my grandson’s spot for the surgery!” The clerk looked up. It was the same one from yesterday. He sighed. “Sir, there really is no money in your account. Our system…” “I know, I know! We’re not using that account. My son is paying with his card directly.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Daniel. “Dad, how much did you send?” “One hundred thousand exactly. Did you get it?” He checked his phone. “Got it!” he said, a wave of relief in his voice. “I’m on my way to pay now!” The clerk looked relieved too. “Then have him hurry over.” Ten minutes later, Daniel arrived. I urged him to the counter. The clerk took the card, inserted it into the machine, and immediately pulled it out. “There are no funds on this card. Try another one.” Daniel froze, then shot me a furious glare. “Dad, when are you going to stop this nonsense? You said you transferred the money, but you were just lying to me again!” “But you just said you received it…” I stammered. “That was the pension payment for Evelyn’s fallen colleague!” he roared. “It wasn’t your money at all!” He shoved me aside and stormed back toward the ward. “Your system has to be the problem!” I yelled, grabbing the clerk. “You saw me transfer the money to my son! How can the card be empty the moment you touch it?” The clerk stood up, his face cold. “Sir, if you continue to cause a disturbance, I will call the police.” “Go ahead! Let the police see how your hospital steals a patient’s life savings!” The police arrived quickly. They calmed me down, then logged into the system and contacted the bank to verify my transaction history. The truth came out swiftly. “Sir, you’re mistaken,” the officer said gently. “Your account has no recent transfer records. Your behavior constitutes a public disturbance, but considering your age and the circumstances, the hospital has agreed not to press charges. Please, just focus on getting the money for the surgery.” I collapsed. How could this be happening? Where did my money go? Daniel, hearing the commotion, rushed back, his face a mask of fury. “Dad, can you just stop?! My son is sick, I can barely eat or sleep, and you’re making these scenes! If I hadn’t donated all my savings, I wouldn’t need you to pay for this! If you keep this up, you can stop being my father!” I grabbed his arm desperately. “I’m not making a scene! I really did transfer the money! Son, when have I ever lied to you?” He hesitated for a second, but his anger quickly returned. “Should I believe you, or should I believe the system? You know what, ever since Mom died, you’ve gotten stranger and stranger. I’ll figure this out myself. I don’t need you.” He was the child I had cherished my entire life. His words, “I don’t need you,” shattered me. I grabbed him and pulled him towards the exit. “Cash! Son, we’ll get cash and pay. There can’t be any problems then!” I dragged him into the bank. He was fuming, but he followed me to the counter. I slapped my passbook on the counter. “I need to withdraw one hundred thousand dollars. All of it. In cash.” This was my retirement account. It was the last of my money. The teller looked at me, typed a few things into her computer, and confirmed, “Sir, your account balance is $100,370. You’d like to withdraw an even one hundred thousand?” I nodded, my fingers digging into the edge of the counter. She counted the bills, bundled them, and placed a thick stack of currency in the tray. “Please count it, sir.” I didn’t. I pushed it toward my son. “You count it.” He stared for a moment, then counted it, bundle by bundle. “$100,000. It’s all here.” I stuffed the money into a canvas bag, clutched it to my chest, and ran with him back to the hospital. It was the same clerk at the billing office. I put the bag on the counter and pulled out the stacks of cash. “One hundred thousand dollars. Cash. You see it? Now give me a receipt. My grandson’s surgery cannot be delayed again.” The clerk looked at me, then at the money. He ran a few stacks through the bill counter. Everything checked out. He nodded, typed into his computer, and handed me a thin payment voucher. “Alright, it’s paid. I’ll make a note on the surgical schedule. Just wait for the notification.” I held that flimsy piece of paper, my hands shaking. I turned and threw my arms around my son, the tears finally coming. “Daniel, look! It’s paid! Toby is saved!” Daniel cried too, holding me tight. That night, I stayed by Toby’s bedside, not daring to leave for a second. He slept soundly, his little hand wrapped around my finger. Seeing him like that, I saw a vision of Daniel as a child, so small, clinging to my hand when he had a fever, refusing to let me go. If Toby could just get through this, he would grow up strong, just like his father. My heart filled with hope. I didn’t sleep a wink. I stared at the clock on my phone, praying for morning, for the nurse to come with the surgery time. Just as the sky began to lighten, I heard footsteps in the hall. Thinking it was the nurse, I jumped to my feet. The door opened. It was Daniel. His face was as white as a sheet, his eyes red and swollen. He was clutching his phone, looking completely hollowed out. “Dad.” My heart seized. “When is the surgery?” He didn’t answer. He just handed me his phone. On the screen was a text message from the hospital: 【Dear patient family, your surgical fees have not yet been paid. Please proceed to the billing office as soon as possible to avoid treatment delays.】 I stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible! I paid $100,000 in cash yesterday! They gave me a receipt!” Daniel angrily pulled the hospital payment card from his bag and threw it at me. “I checked this morning! There’s not a single cent in the account! This is your fault! You told me to deposit the money into this account! Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with it? Why did you have to risk Toby’s surgery?” The phone buzzed. A message from the surgeon: 【Sir, I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. The surgery is canceled. I wish your son a speedy recovery.】 Down the hall, I heard the sound of a suitcase rolling away, growing fainter and fainter. Daniel sank to the floor, covered his face, and let out a strangled sob. “Dad, if Toby… if he doesn’t make it because of this… I will never, ever forgive you! I hate you!” I stood frozen, a chill spreading through my entire body. His words were knives, but I didn’t have time for the pain. I immediately called the surgeon. “Doctor, please, just one more chance. I’ll sell my house. I’ll have the money then. I swear I’ll pay the fee.” There was a pause on the other end. “Sir, do you know how many times I’ve rescheduled my flight? Four times. I have other patients to save. This back and forth… are you truly serious about getting your child treatment, or…?” She didn’t finish, but her meaning was clear. “I swear, Doctor,” I begged. “This time it’s real. I’m going to sell the house right now. Just give me one more day. Just one.” A sigh. “Alright. One last day.” I didn’t have time to grieve. After promising Daniel I’d fix it, I rushed to the police station. But after reviewing everything, they found nothing wrong. By the time I left, it was dark. I thought of the relatives I’d borrowed from and started calling. “Arthur, I heard what happened. You need to take care of that boy, stop making up these wild stories.” “Your son told me everything. You knew you had no money, but you insisted the hospital stole it and even got the police involved. Arthur, are you getting senile?” “Let me give you some advice. Be good to that child. Otherwise, you’ll end up old and alone with no one to even bury you.” Every single one of them refused me. I squatted on the sidewalk and cried for a long time. When I stood up, the world tilted. I almost collapsed. Late that night, I finally made it back to my small rental apartment. Daniel and Toby lived in the small house I’d bought for them, the down payment made with my life’s savings, the deed in my son’s name. As dawn broke, an idea came to me. I washed my face and went back to the hospital. Daniel was sitting by the bed, staring at me. His eyes were lifeless, as if he’d been completely hollowed out. I didn’t notice. I was too consumed by my plan. “Daniel, I have an idea.” He looked up, no light in his eyes. “We can take out a mortgage on your house,” I said, the words tumbling out. “We’ll pay it back as soon as I get my money back.” “It’s no use…” he mumbled. “What are you talking about? If we just try one more time, we can save Toby!” I insisted. “Go, don’t waste any more time. I already told the surgeon to wait one more day.” He remained motionless. Seeing his despair, I felt a surge of frustration and threw the property deed at him. “Stop moping and go!” He mechanically opened the deed. After one glance, he ripped it in half and threw it back at me. “Dad, how many years have you been lying to me?” I was stunned. “What’s wrong?” “This house! The name on the deed isn’t mine! And it’s not yours either! Dad, you told me you bought this for me with your life savings! The deed is a fake! What else have you been hiding from me?” His voice grew louder, drawing nurses and other patients. “You wanted me to mortgage it? Were you trying to humiliate me? Did you ever even want to save Toby?” “No, Daniel, I swear I didn’t know…” “Enough!” He buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with sobs. “It doesn’t matter now! Nothing matters!” Before I could react, he yanked the blanket off Toby. “He’s gone! He couldn’t wait for your money anymore! Dad, just go. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’ve never told me the truth about anything. If it weren’t for you, my son wouldn’t have had to die!” I collapsed to the floor. How? How could he still be dead after I’d been given a second chance? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Daniel was completely broken. He lunged for the window. “Toby’s gone, I don’t want to live anymore!” In that split second, a memory flashed in my mind, so sharp it was like a physical blow. “Stop! I know where the money went!”
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