I Will Never Financially Recover Mga Nobela at Kwento

I insisted. “No,” he agreed, flipping a page. “There are approximately one percent of patients that don’t recover fully. Pretty damn good odds that you can recover.” He shut the file. “I’ve known you for a while, Christian. The only one percent you are ever in, is the top.” “Sometimes we don’t have a choice.” He leaned forward. “In this, you do.” I slammed my hand on the table. “You think it’s that easy? That I can will myself to walk and I will? I have fucking tried!”

She was capable of doing that. Goosebumps masked my skin as I paced around the room, my mind hazy with thoughts. There was no way I could recover from this latest attack. Everything keeping my company grounded was gone. With no more money and no investors, not even new ones, I would have to declare bankruptcy. Amelia had ruined me.

He pleaded with me to be patient, claiming he had already invested the money in the venture. Eventually, I took legal action against the Howlers and pursued every necessary step to recover my funds. Though I managed to get back two million, the court stated that they couldn't assist further due to the Howlers' bankruptcy. Consequently, I was left trying to recover the rest of the money from Jake.

he whispered. I frowned, stepping back. "What do you mean?" "The treatments. The experimental drugs. The hospital stays. Insurance totally pulled out last week," he said, his voice cracking as he finally looked at me. "We owe tons of money. The bank is taking the house next month. I can't fix this. I've tried everything, and I just can't fix this." "We can figure it out," I said, my voice trembling as the reality of his words started to sink in. "We can get a loan, or I can get a second job, or—"

"I think you would want her body to be intact, right?" Dr. Gordon asked. His words were like a sledgehammer against Dad's chest, completely shattering his fantasy of trying to rewrite my fate with money. Dad's arms fell limply to his side, the checks fluttering into the mud and getting crushed deep into the sludge by someone's foot. As it turned out, there were things that money couldn't buy after all, even if he owned an entire financial empire. For instance, there was no way to undo regret or get my life back.

I sneered. Her expression changed instantly. "Recover it? Where would our family get that kind of money? Even if we sold everything we own, we won't be able to come up with that much!" I brushed imaginary dust off my fingernail, not bothering to spare a glance at her. "Of course, it has to be recovered. Do you think a loss like that just disappears? You really should come every day. Otherwise, we'd have to send people to find you, and that'd be a hassle."

"Enough about astrology. Let's talk about trauma. That's what the producers want, right? Who has a good story?" The table went silent. "I'll start," Kieran said, swirling his red wine. "I once lost a million dollars in a single day. Crypto crash. Had to sell the Ferrari. It was devastating. I learned that money is fleeting, but style is eternal." "That's not trauma, Kieran," Sam the Fitness Bro said, shaking his head. "That's just bad investing. Trauma is tearing your ACL the week before nationals." "Physical pain heals," Kieran dismissed. "Financial ruin leaves scars on the soul."

Reneigh I looked away until the glass was forced into my hand. He allowed me to think without pushing, remaining quiet as I sipped on the drink, contemplating my answer. Finally, I found the courage to tell him at least a portion of the truth. "Yes. My mother's medical care is astronomical, and her insurance won't cover jack shit. I sold my house, my car, and almost everything I owned, moving in with her to try and keep everything afloat but after a few years, I couldn't do it on what I was making. No one would give me a loan and her house is in such shitty condition that I couldn't refinance. The damn thing didn't qualify. By that point, my credit was in the toilet since I maxed out my cred

"You screwed me over!" He couldn't be bothered to deal with her. Instead, he crawled over to my feet and threw his arms around my legs, sobbing hysterically. "Rebecca, I'm so sorry… I really am! I don't want the house or the money. Just don't make me repay the 1.2 million, okay? I don't even have a job anymore. How am I supposed to pay that back?" I kicked him aside. "How you repay it has nothing to do with me. You're highly educated, aren't you? You can sell your organs for all I care, but you're going to cough up every penny of my money."

I knew I wouldn’t get it. Her rushed figure reminded me of years ago. That year, I had fallen seriously ill and didn’t have money for surgery. Lucy had told me not to worry, promising she could help. That night, I woke to find her exhausted, making call after call to borrow money on my behalf. From that moment on, I silently promised myself that I would never let her down. Later, our company grew, and money was never a problem again. However, she and I could never go back to the way things were.