He Stole His Father’s Life-Saving Money,So I Took Back My Company and My Life

"And he gave all the life-saving money to an outsider? No—I have to call him and explain everything!" That was exactly why I'd come. I wanted them to hear the truth from their own son. The call connected, and Mortimer immediately started complaining. "Mom, I'm busy. Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm done." Beverly didn't even get a word in before he hung up. She stared at the phone, stunned. She pressed redial. This time it rang for a long while before he picked up. "Mom, I 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 everyone else—calling nonstop!" Mortimer's voice dripped with irritation. Beverly couldn't contain her fury any longer. "Wait until you're done?" "What—do I have to wait until your father is dead before you'll stop and talk to us?!" Silence hung on the line for a few seconds. "What's that supposed to mean? Did Renee go running to you again?" "Yes. She's right here beside me." Beverly looked at her husband's gaunt face, her voice trembling. "She told us everything. Mortimer, your father—he's—" "Mom." Mortimer cut her off. "Let me guess. You're about to tell me Dad is critically ill, lying in a hospital bed, desperately needs a fortune to survive—and that money just happens to be the same money I transferred?" His words came slow and dripping with mockery. Beverly had doubted me at first. But hearing her son's reaction, a chill crept into her heart. "What nonsense are you spouting? This is the truth! Your father is really sick!" Mortimer didn't believe a word. "I thought Renee was just being petty, making up lies to claw the money back." "I didn't expect you'd all team up to con me." "Mom, when did you become like this?" I stood to the side, watching Beverly's face flush crimson with helpless rage. All I could do was watch. "That money is seed funding for the company's R&D. Renata is a professional—I've reviewed every projection and assessment she put together." "Once the research 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— On the bed, Stuart suddenly began coughing up blood. He looked toward his wife's phone, and something in his eyes went hollow. All hope, extinguished. "Stuart?" Beverly rushed to his side in panic. "Doctor! Doctor!" The blood spreading across the white sheets sent her into hysterics. For the first time, the severity of Stuart's illness became terrifyingly real to me. The doctor had said he was in the mid-to-late stages. Survival meant surgery. It meant months—maybe years—of imported specialty medications. The kind of costs ordinary people couldn't begin to afford. The call was still connected. Mortimer heard the chaos. He started to ask what was happening— Then Renata's voice floated through in the background. "Mortimer, this is Mr. Lambert." He hesitated. Then chose Renata's side. Stuart's condition deteriorated sharply—his son's callousness had pushed him over the edge. It took over an hour of emergency treatment to stabilize him. But this time, he was moved to the ICU. The bills climbed higher. Beverly stood outside the ward, frantic, calling Mortimer over and over. Every call went straight to voicemail. Phone off. To save Stuart's life, I gritted my teeth and made a decision. "I'll sell the company. It should bring in around twenty million dollars." "That would cover everything—treatment, medication, whatever comes next."

Mortimer was a joke, but a life still hung in the balance. Besides, I was an orphan. From the day I married into this family, his parents had treated me like their own daughter. My mother-in-law hesitated. "But... that company is everything you've built. All those years... can you really let it go?" "It's better than standing here helpless, watching him die." I went home that night and started organizing every document the company had. Halfway through, the absurdity of it hit me. This company had started with just over a million dollars of my father-in-law's seed money. I'd clawed my way through every project since—negotiating, problem-solving, building it into what it was today. Only I knew what that had cost me. Now, to save a life, I had to sell it. Just like that. By the next day, I'd already contacted several potential buyers through a broker. The process went smoother than expected—probably because the company's books were clean and the revenue stream was stable. I settled on an offer of eighteen million. Lower than I'd hoped, but the buyer could pay in full, upfront. No installments, no delays. I went straight to the hospital to tell my mother-in-law. "I found a buyer. We're signing tomorrow. The paperwork will take a few days, but the money should come through soon." I kept my voice steady. Calm. She looked at the sealed doors of the ICU, then back at me. Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Renee... I'm so sorry. You worked so hard for that company..." I cut her off gently. "Mom, it's fine." "A company can be rebuilt. A person can't." "Whatever happens, let's focus on getting Dad better first." She gripped my hand, nodding through her tears. The next afternoon, I arrived at the law firm to sign the letter of intent. The buyer's representative and their attorney were already there. I'd brought a friend—someone I trusted—to review the terms on my end. The preliminary discussions went smoothly. All the documents were in order. Just as I was about to sign, the buyer's attorney, Ned Lambert, took a phone call. When he hung up, his expression had shifted. Something guarded crept into his eyes. He stepped aside and exchanged a few murmured words with the buyer. The buyer's brow furrowed immediately. My friend noticed too. She leaned in, voice low. "Renee, what's going on?" Attorney Lambert walked back to the table. "Ms. Gilbert, I apologize, but we need to pause the proceedings." "I just received a call—and a faxed document." He hesitated. "The equity for PeakVoice Tech, registered under your name... it was transferred three days ago." "The current legal representative and sole shareholder is now listed as Renata Matthews." I went rigid. "That's impossible. I'm the sole shareholder and legal representative. A transfer can't happen without my signature and verification documents." Attorney Lambert turned his phone toward me, displaying the faxed record. "This is what we received. The registered change shows the transfer reason as 'gift.'" His voice was carefully neutral. "The gifting party is listed as Mortimer Fox." Mortimer? I stared at the document, my vision narrowing. There it was. The legal representative field. My name—gone. Replaced by Renata Matthews. Shareholder information: Renata Matthews. The conference room door swung open. Mortimer strode in wearing a tailored suit and designer sunglasses, moving like he owned the room. His face carried nothing but ice and contempt. "Well, well. Quite the party in here." He let out a cold laugh and approached the table. "I was wondering where all those company files disappeared to." His lips curled. "Trying to sell my company behind my back?" I didn't explode. I just stared at him, my voice flat with warning. "Do you have any idea what you've done? This money is supposed to save your father's life."

Mortimer's lips curled into a sneer of contempt. "Renee, I really did underestimate you." "Using my parents for money wasn't enough—now you're trying to sell the company behind my back?" "Good thing Renata saw this coming. She figured you'd pull something desperate, so I transferred the company to her name for safekeeping." "I trust her to hold it for me." "At least she's better than handing it to someone whose only goal is to bleed my family dry!" Renata stood beside him, triumph glittering in her eyes. Then she sighed, her voice dripping with false concern. "Ms. Gilbert, I don't mean to overstep." "You and Mortimer are husband and wife. If you're struggling, you could just talk to him." "But to scheme like this? To make him sign away everything without even knowing?" "That level of calculation... it's honestly frightening." I felt my disgust rise like bile. Looking at the self-satisfied man in front of me, I felt revulsion for the first time. "Calculation? Using people?" I repeated the words, my voice dangerously low. I stood abruptly, seized Mortimer's wrist, and started dragging him toward the door. "What the hell are you doing?!" "Let go!!" Mortimer wrenched free instinctively. I turned on him. "You don't believe me?" "Then let's go to the hospital. Right now. To the ICU." "See for yourself whether your father is faking it." "See if that five million you transferred—and your precious company—is worth more than your own father's life!" Renata lunged at me, shoving hard against my shoulders. I blocked her with the back of my arm, each word dropping like a stone. "This is my family's business. Back off." Security rushed in. It took three of them to pull us apart. Renata was shielded immediately—just a small split on her lip. Me? She'd stuck her foot out as I stumbled back. My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of the desk. The pain whited out my vision. I couldn't stand. Then Mortimer grabbed the ashtray from the desk and hurled it at me. It struck my head. Blood ran down my face. But Mortimer was already at Renata's side, his expression twisted with worry. "Renata, does it hurt? Are you injured anywhere else?" His voice was urgent, tender. Nothing like the perfunctory concern he'd shown during any of my illnesses over the years. Renata shook her head. "I'm fine. It's just... Ms. Gilbert, she..." She looked at me, trailing off as if the words were too delicate to speak. Only then did Mortimer turn to me. His gaze hardened instantly. "Renee, are you done with this insanity?!" "Attacking someone in front of everyone—look at yourself!" "You're acting like some street thug!" "This is assault. Apologize to Renata. Now." Blood from my forehead trickled along my brow and pooled at my eyelid. I wiped it away. My vision cleared. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. In over thirty years of living, has anything ever been more absurd than this? "Apologize? To whom? To her?" I looked at Renata and caught the smirk she didn't bother to hide. "Yes! Immediately!" Mortimer pressed on, as if this were the most reasonable demand in the world. I ignored him. Bent down and gathered the scattered documents from the floor. "Mr. Lambert, I'll need you to handle the next steps." Then I limped toward the door. "We're not finished here! You think you can just leave?!" "Renee, stop right there!" Mortimer moved to block me. I didn't stop. I didn't look back. Explain myself? What was left to explain? My father-in-law was still in the ICU, waiting for money that would never come. The company route had collapsed. I needed another way. I took a deep breath and buried everything I was feeling. I called a few old friends—people I'd helped before, people who owed me favors. Over the phone, I didn't go into details. Piece by piece, I scraped together just over a million dollars. Enough for the surgery, at least. The imported medications and follow-up costs would have to wait. I grabbed the money and rushed to the hospital. My phone rang on the way. Beverly. I answered immediately. "Mom, I've got some of the money together. I'm on my way now." "He's gone..." Her voice was calm. Unnervingly calm. "Your father... he's gone..." "What? Mom, what do you mean? What happened to Dad?" "The doctors said this morning his condition had stabilized—" Her composure shattered. The sound that came through was raw, gutted, hopeless. "He pulled out his own tubes... the monitors started screaming..." "By the time they found him... it was already... already..." I went numb. It never occurred to me that he would take his own life. The next few days blurred together as I handled the funeral arrangements. At some point, I asked Beverly if she wanted to notify Mortimer. She shook her head. Her expression was ice. "As far as I'm concerned, I never had a son. I don't want anything to do with him ever again."