Chapter 3

"Grandpa!" I stumbled over and laid Grandpa flat. "Call 911! Hurry!"

Only after I sent Grandpa off in the ambulance did I realize my legs had gone so weak that I could barely stand.

When I looked up, I saw the sketchpad Casey had left in the car. The subject of the painting wasn't Grandpa, but Tommy, who was behind him sketching the scenery.

The light above the emergency room stayed on for a long time.

Casey held my hand and comforted me, "Don't worry. Grandpa has always been blessed. He'll be fine."

"At that age, he should just stay home," Tommy complained. "Today's painting was a complete waste."

"What do you mean by that?" I finally couldn't hold back and punched him. "If you hadn't insisted on changing the location and going hiking, would Grandpa have ended up like this?"

Tommy tilted sideways and let himself fall.

"Yes, it's all my fault," he admitted. "So, what do you want me to do? How about I pay with my life for what happened to Mr. Coffey?"

As he spoke, he was about to ram into the wall. But Casey quickly stopped him.

"Lawrence, have you lost your mind? Do you want to drive Tommy to his death?"

Her face was gloomy as she carefully checked whether Tommy was hurt. After confirming he was fine, she abruptly slapped me across the face.

"Is it worth making such a scene over a stupid old geezer?"

My face quickly swelled up and burned with pain. I clenched my palms tightly, my chest hurting as if it were about to split open.

"Casey, you were the one who said we were family and that you'd definitely take good care of Grandpa. He used his retirement savings to hold a painting exhibition for you, and now you say something like this?"

Casey's eyes were cold and dark. "A lowly old geezer like him should feel honored to invest in a famous painter like me."

I looked at Casey and suddenly felt I didn't know her at all.

When we had just gotten married, she went with me to the countryside to visit Grandpa.

Grandpa brought out freshly picked peaches and apricots like they were precious treasures, and cooked up a whole table of food.

Casey ate with great relish and kept praising Grandpa's cooking. She took photos of the three of us, helped Grandpa with farm work, and bought him new clothes.

She even held my hand and promised Grandpa that she would take care of me forever.

Grandpa was so moved that he took out his retirement savings to hold a painting exhibition for her. All he asked was that she and I build a happy life together.

Later, she painted a realistic portrait of Grandpa harvesting wheat in the fields. With that painting, she won a major award and rose to fame overnight.

Back then, she called Grandpa pure, simple, a touching soul, and the very embodiment of the working people. But now she said he was lowly, and she didn't want to be with me anymore either.

"I'm going back to pack Grandpa's things for the hospital stay. I'll come by later."

With that, Casey took Tommy's hand and walked away.

I knew Casey's contempt and disgust weren't aimed at Grandpa, but at me. I was the one who had dragged Grandpa into this.

The light above the emergency room went out.

The doctor said Grandpa had been brought in in time, and that once he got through that night's critical period, he'd be out of danger.

In the ICU, Grandpa's thin, shriveled body was covered in tubes. The flickering light on the ventilator made my heart ache.

I kept vigil outside the hospital room all night, too scared to even blink. Yet, Casey never returned.

It wasn't until the next morning that she finally texted me.

"Tommy's studio ran into some trouble. I went to deal with it. I had Grandpa's things delivered by courier."

I turned off my phone expressionlessly.

Suddenly, the ICU monitors blared a sharp alarm.

Doctors and nurses rushed into Grandpa's hospital room.

"The patient is in acute heart failure and needs surgery immediately. Mr. Frazier, please pay 250 thousand dollars first. There's a specialty drug that has to be paid for up front before we can use it."

Unable to care about anything else, I rushed to the payment window, only to be told there was only 200 dollars left on my card.

"That's impossible! I have three million dollars on this card!"

This card was specifically for Grandpa's treatment expenses, and only Casey and I knew the passcode.

My hands were shaking so much when I called Casey.

"Did you take the money set aside for Grandpa's treatment?"

"Tommy needed money urgently, so I wired it to him to tide him over," Casey replied calmly.

"But that's the money for Grandpa's treatment. He needs surgery now. Wire back the money immediately!" My voice was so hoarse that it barely sounded like mine.

"I can't do that. The money's already been used," Casey stated.

"Casey, is Lawrence refusing to lend me the money? Didn't Mr. Coffey pull through yesterday? Why does he need surgery again now?"

Tommy's voice was barely audible.

The nurse kept pressing me, and I was so anxious that I stamped my feet.

"Casey, I'm begging you. I only need 250 thousand dollars. Grandpa really can't hold on any longer."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Tommy's muffled sobbing came through again. "But Casey, without this money, my studio is finished. And my dream and all the hard work I've put in over the years will be ruined too."

"Lawrence, there should be a limit to lying," Casey retorted without hesitation. "This money will go to Tommy first. We can raise the money for Grandpa's surgery through online crowdfunding. It'll take two weeks at most to raise the money."

With that, Casey hung up with a sharp click.

But Grandpa couldn't hold on much longer.

I watched the flickering light of the operating room and dug my nails into my palms. Gritting my teeth, I pulled up a fundraising website.

Suddenly, the light above the operating room went out.

The doctor emerged with a regretful expression and shook his head.

"Sorry, Mr. Frazier. We did everything we could. If we had been able to use the specialty drug, there might still have been a chance."