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

I was on a business trip when my mother-in-law called in the middle of the night.

"Renee, your father-in-law has a terminal illness. The doctors say surgery and specialized medication are the only way to keep him alive."

When I learned the total cost would run into the millions, I mortgaged two properties that same night and emptied every savings account I had.

I planned to visit him at the hospital the next day.

Instead, I discovered that every cent I'd raised had been transferred out—by my husband.

"Renata told me the company was short on research funding. I gave it all to her."

I confronted him. "Do you have any idea what that money was for? It's to save your father's life. He's dying."

Mortimer Fox scoffed. "Renee Gilbert, if you're going to lie, at least make it believable."

"My father's perfectly healthy. Stop cursing him."

1.

The line went dead.

I sat on the couch, staring at the phone, silent for a long time.

The next morning, I called the company's finance director directly.

"Laurence Finch, I need you to check something for me. Has Renata Matthews submitted any funding requests for R&D projects recently?"

The answer came quickly. "No, Ms. Gilbert, she hasn't."

"However, Mr. Fox did submit a request last week—three hundred thousand for a team-building event. It's already been approved."

What kind of team-building costs three hundred thousand dollars?

I thought of the phone call last night—the pounding music in the background, the teasing laughter, the unmistakable sounds of a party.

My heart began to sink.

I called Mortimer again. This time, it rang for a long while before he picked up.

The background was soft piano music now—nothing like the chaos from the night before.

"What is it now?"

Impatience threaded through his voice.

I forced myself to stay calm, enunciating every word with precision.

"That five hundred thousand. You're getting it back today."

"There is no new R&D project. And your father—"

"Renee Gilbert, are you done?"

Mortimer's voice spiked.

"Renata explained everything to me last night. It's seed funding for a confidential new initiative—of course it's not going through official channels."

"Why can't you just let other people succeed? Is that it?"

All I could do was laugh bitterly. More than anything, I felt pathetic.

"Finance has no record of it. None."

"Ask her right now. Tell her to produce a project proposal—even a rough draft will do."

"If she can, I'll drop it."

"Who do you think you are to investigate her? To interrogate her?"

Mortimer's voice rose to a shout. "My father helped you start that company. Now Renata is helping me protect my investment!"

"You're always off somewhere else—have you ever once cared whether the company lives or dies?"

"I made the transfer. I'll take responsibility!"

Responsibility.

Coming from him, that word was a joke.

Yes, Stuart Fox had invested in the beginning. That was exactly why I'd mortgaged everything I owned to save his life.

But the money I'd scraped together? His own son had handed it straight to another woman.

"You could go to the hospital yourself. I'll send you the address—"

Before I could finish, Mortimer let out a derisive snort.

"Give it a rest. I know my father's health better than you do."

"Renata said we'll see preliminary results in a few days. Then you'll know whether she's a fraud or not."

The line went dead again.

I held the phone in front of me, staring at the screen—at the contact name that read Husband.

For the first time, the word felt like it belonged to a stranger.

I went to the hospital.

I stood by Stuart's bed and told them the truth—all of it.

Stuart sighed, over and over, but said nothing.

Beverly Fox was furious. "That ungrateful little bastard. We gave him everything growing up, and now he won't even lift a finger when his own father is dying."