Chapter249 The Money's Gone
Dominic leaned in close to the screen and started counting the zeros.
By the time he finished, the blood had drained from his face. He grabbed the edge of the desk, convinced he was about to pass out.
He hadn't misread it. In just a few days, the withdrawals had already crossed into eight figures.
He dropped back into his chair with a heavy thud, the leather groaning under him.
He sat there pressing his hand against his forehead, breathing hard, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Then he snatched the intercom off the desk.
"Get in here. Now."
His assistant slipped through the door seconds later.
"Sir? You called for me?"
"What happened to my account?" Dominic jabbed a finger at the screen. "Explain this."
The assistant flinched but kept her composure.
"Sir, this was per your instructions. A few days ago, when I confirmed the details of Master Christian's medical expenses with you, you specifically said all costs were to come out of your personal account. I actually verified that with you twice."
The words hit Dominic like a bucket of cold water.
He remembered.
He had said exactly that. At the hospital.
The room tilted slightly.
Dominic let out a long, defeated breath and waved her off.
"Get out."
She was gone before he finished the sentence.
Alone in the office, he picked up his phone and called Arabella.
She picked up. He didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Arabella. What is going on with that hospital? Christian's bills are out of control. We're talking hundreds of thousands a day. Do they think I'm made of money?"
Arabella's voice on the other end was completely unbothered.
"Too expensive? Dominic, if anything, we got a discount."
She continued at her own unhurried pace.
"If we want Christian's legs to heal without any lasting complications, he needs Prescott's latest treatment. That drug is practically priceless on the open market. Each dose would normally cost millions. Clifton pulled strings with the hospital on Miranda's behalf. We're only paying cost."
Dominic's jaw tightened. His lips barely moved.
"That's still too much."
He was bleeding internally over every cent, while simultaneously nursing the bitter thought that if Clifton was already being generous enough to discount it, the man could have just gone all the way and written it off entirely.
Arabella seemed to read his mind from across the line. She let out a quiet laugh.
"Don't be cheap about it. You stood in that hospital and told everyone, loudly and proudly, that you would cover every penny of your son's care. If you go back on that now, what is Prescott going to think? What is Clifton going to think, seeing his father-in-law too stingy to pay for his own son's life-saving treatment?"
That shut him up completely.
He needed Prescott's goodwill. He could not afford to look small in front of them.
"Fine," he said through his teeth, and ended the call.
He sat there for a long moment, one hand pressed to his chest, breathing slowly until the rage settled.
Then he looked at his banking app again. At the balance that had shrunk so dramatically it made his chest ache.
His fingers moved fast.
He quietly transferred most of what remained into a separate private account.
His plan was simple. The next time the hospital tried to run a charge and found insufficient funds, they would contact Arabella. And Arabella could use her own card.
He kept his money. He kept his reputation. Problem solved.
--
Martinez Residence, that afternoon.
Mrs. Martinez stood in the living room doorway, staring at her son slumped across the sofa, reeking of alcohol, dead to the world.
Since the night at the business gala where Miranda had stripped away his mask in front of everyone and left him looking like a fool, Arthur had barely done anything except drink himself senseless.
Every time she looked at him, the pain carved a little deeper.
Her eyes hardened.
Miranda had done this to both her children.
She was going to make her pay.
She was still thinking when the front door opened. Martinez came in, face tight, clearly not in a good mood.
He took one look at the living room, then caught the expression on his wife's face before she could smooth it away. His brow furrowed.
"What are you thinking about?"
She reset her features quickly, forcing something that resembled a smile.
"Nothing. You're home early."
He didn't answer. He studied her for a moment, and she got the feeling he saw right through her. His voice dropped to a warning.
"I'm telling you now. Stay away from Miranda."
The words snapped something inside her.
Her eyes went red instantly.
"Stay away from her?" Her voice climbed. "Look at your son. Look at your daughter. Miranda did this to both of them. How am I supposed to just let that go?"
She wanted to watch that girl's whole world burn to the ground.
But she also knew that as long as Prescott was in the picture, her husband would never back her up.
She swallowed it down. Let out a long, quiet sigh instead, pressing her fingers to the corners of her eyes.
"I know. I know. I just hate seeing him like this."
Martinez's expression softened slightly. He glanced at Arthur's blotchy face and said flatly, "I'll take him to the office this afternoon. Stay out of it."
"Of course."
She kept her head down until she heard his footsteps disappear up the stairs.
Then the softness dropped from her face entirely.
What was left was something colder, and far more patient.
--
By evening, Miranda pulled her car up to the front gate of Prescott Estate.
Celeste arrived at almost the exact same moment.
Two luxury cars, nose to nose at the ornate iron gate.
Celeste rolled down her window. The look she gave Miranda through the glass was open contempt.
Not long now, she was thinking. You're almost finished.
Miranda had no idea what was going through Celeste's head.
She was just tired.
The gate was wide enough for two cars to drive through at the same time, but every time Miranda inched forward, Celeste's car nosed in to cut her off. Every time Miranda stopped, Celeste stopped too.
She was just trying to see how long it would take.
Miranda rolled her window down.
The evening breeze stirred the loose strands of hair at her temples. The sky behind her was lit up in deep orange and amber, the kind of sunset that made everything look softer than it was.
She looked over at Celeste. Her voice was calm.
"Go ahead. You first."