Three hours later, the light above the operating room finally went dark.
The doctor emerged from the OR.
"The patient is out of immediate danger. However, she has a pre-existing brain tumor. We recommend removing it while we're in there—the follow-up surgery and treatment will run approximately $300,000. You should prepare yourselves."
I nodded.
"I'll cover it."
The next day, $500,000 appeared in my account.
I transferred every cent to the hospital.
Thank God. Mom wasn't meant to die yet.
After three days of fighting for her life, her condition finally stabilized.
Three days. Not a single Fletcher showed up. Not even a text.
But their social media? Thriving.
"Won a MILLION dollars in the lottery! Best New Year EVER!"
"Thanks Mom for sharing the wealth! Love you!"
"Grandma's the best! Thank you!"
"Nana is literally the greatest person alive!"
The comments overflowed with likes and congratulations from relatives I'd never heard from.
I scrolled through everything. Abner hadn't posted a word.
But his fishing buddy's photos told a different story.
New rod. Charter boat. Deep-sea fishing trip.
I smiled coldly and screenshotted every last post.
Two weeks later, Mom was discharged.