"It went through!" Joshua's voice cracked with relief and triumph. "The payment was successful! Look!"
Patricia's eyes narrowed as she glanced at her own phone, then back at Joshua with undisguised disgust. "Who knows how much you actually paid? Your piece of junk phone was freezing and lagging like crazy. For all we know, you transferred ten dollars and think you're clever."
Joshua's elation faltered. In his panic and desperation, with the phone screen stuttering and freezing, he honestly couldn't remember how many zeros he'd typed. But he was certain—he had to have paid at least ten thousand dollars. Maybe more.
"I can check the transfer record," Joshua said quickly. "Just let me—"
"Check the record?" Patricia snatched the phone from his hand before he could react. "Who knows if you'll just fake another screenshot? We're checking the hospital account directly. The real account. Not your photoshopped fantasy."
She pulled out her own phone, dialing with sharp, aggressive jabs at the screen. "Yes, this is Nurse Patricia Wilson from the ICU floor. I need you to check if we've received a payment. Medical expenses for a patient named..." She glanced at the chart, "...Mrs. Elizabeth Hart. The amount should be one hundred thousand dollars."
Joshua held his breath, his heart pounding. The payment had gone through. He'd seen the confirmation.
Patricia's expression shifted from professional inquiry to smug satisfaction. "Uh-huh. I see. No, nothing? Are you absolutely sure?" She paused, listening. "Right. Thank you."
She ended the call and turned to Joshua with a venomous smile. "Finance says no payment of one hundred thousand dollars has been received. What a surprise."
"That's impossible," Joshua protested. "I saw the confirmation—"
"You saw what you wanted to see," Jennifer cut in, her voice dripping with contempt. "Probably got confused by all those numbers you're not used to seeing."
Susan laughed sharply. "I bet he transferred ten bucks and thought he was being generous."
"Give me my phone back," Joshua demanded, reaching for it. "I'll show you the exact amount—"
Patricia held the phone high above her head, well out of Joshua's reach. "I don't think so. You've wasted enough of our time with your lies and theatrics."
She turned to the security desk phone mounted on the wall nearby and pressed the call button. "Security? This is Nurse Wilson on the fourth floor. I need two guards up here immediately. We have a vagrant causing a disturbance and attempting to defraud the hospital."
"I'm not a vagrant!" Joshua's voice rose. "I paid! There must be some kind of error—"
"The only error here is you," Patricia snapped. "You and your sickly mother have taken advantage of this hospital's generosity for the last time. When security gets here, they're throwing both of you out onto the street where you belong. You can beg for spare change there."
"Wait!" Joshua's mind raced. In his panic with the lagging phone, maybe he had made a mistake with the amount. "Okay, maybe—maybe I didn't enter the full amount correctly. But I know I paid at least ten thousand dollars. I can pay the remaining ninety thousand right now—"
The three nurses erupted into laughter.
"Ten thousand?" Patricia gasped between her cackling. "Oh, that's rich! I think you paid ten dollars and you're trying to pull a fast one on us!"
"You're pathetic," Jennifer added, shaking her head with exaggerated pity. "You really think we're stupid enough to fall for this?"
"I'll prove it," Joshua said desperately. "Just give me back my phone. Let me show you the transaction history—"
"Not a chance," Patricia said coldly. "You've proven yourself to be a liar and a con artist. The phone stays with me until security arrives."
Joshua felt panic clawing at his chest. His mother was still lying on the gurney, helpless and dying, while these nurses treated him like garbage. He opened his mouth to argue further when the sound of rapid footsteps echoed through the corridor.
A middle-aged man in an expensive suit came rushing down the stairs from the upper administrative floors, his face flushed and his breathing heavy. He clutched a tablet in one hand and his phone in the other.
Patricia's eyebrows rose in recognition. "Mr. Bernard? What are you doing down here?"
Robert Bernard was the hospital's chief financial officer, a man who typically spent his days in the executive suite and rarely ventured to the patient floors. His presence was unexpected, to say the least.
Patricia's smug expression returned full force. "Actually, perfect timing. You can personally confirm for this con artist that he hasn't paid a single cent toward his mother's medical bills."
Bernard barely glanced at her, his attention fixed on his tablet screen. "I don't have time for this," he muttered irritably. "The hospital just received the largest single transfer in its entire history. One hundred million dollars. One. Hundred. Million. I can't reach Director Matthews and I need to find him immediately. This is unprecedented—"
Patricia's jaw dropped. Then she recovered, turning to Joshua with even more vicious mockery. "Did you hear that? One hundred million dollars. That's what real wealth looks like. Someone out there just paid enough money to buy this entire hospital without blinking an eye." She leaned closer to Joshua, her voice dripping with scorn. "And you? You can't even scrape together a hundred dollars. You're nothing. Less than nothing."
"Some people have class," Susan added, nodding sagely. "And some people are just leeches on society."
Bernard was already walking away, muttering under his breath as he scrolled through his tablet. "Who is this person? Joshua Hart... Never heard the name before. How does someone quietly transfer one hundred million dollars without any prior contact?"
The corridor went utterly silent.
It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the space. Patricia's face, which had been twisted in smug satisfaction just seconds ago, went deathly pale. Jennifer's mouth fell open. Susan actually stumbled backward.
Joshua felt the world slow down around him.
"What..." Patricia's voice came out as a croak. She lunged forward, grabbing Bernard's arm so forcefully that he nearly dropped his tablet. "What did you just say? Who was the payment from?"
Bernard frowned, clearly annoyed at being detained. "I don't have time to—"
"The name!" Patricia's voice was shrill now, almost hysterical. "What was the name of the person who made the transfer?"
Bernard pulled his arm free, glancing at his tablet screen again with obvious impatience. "Joshua Hart. The payment came from a Joshua Hart." He looked up, his irritation evident. "Why? Do you know him?"
All three nurses' heads swiveled in unison toward Joshua, their faces frozen in expressions of dawning horror.
Latest Chapter
Chapter 240
The atmosphere remained awkward after Lorenzo publicly defended Joshua.It had the specific, persistent quality of awkwardness that didn't resolve cleanly — not the sharp, momentary awkwardness of a single uncomfortable exchange that people moved past, but the ambient, sustained variety that settled into a room when something significant had occurred and the people present were still carrying it in their awareness while trying to conduct themselves as though they weren't.Joshua accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter.The movement was clean and entirely natural — the specific, automatic quality of someone performing an ordinary social action in a social space, carrying none of the self-consciousness that the surrounding atmosphere was producing in everyone else. He accepted the glass. He nodded briefly to the waiter. He turned back to Lorenzo and the businessmen with the unhurried, present quality of someone returning to a conversation they had been engaged in and found worth
Chapter 239
The atmosphere remained awkward after Lorenzo publicly defended Joshua.The specific, ambient awkwardness of a room that has witnessed something and is processing it without a clean mechanism for release — the guests nearest to the exchange conducting themselves with the slightly careful quality of people who have seen something they don't want to appear to have seen, the guests further away conducting themselves with the specific, elevated alertness of people who have registered that something occurred and are waiting for the ripple to reach them.Joshua accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter.The movement was clean and unhurried — the specific, automatic quality of someone performing a natural action in a social space, entirely unconcerned with the specific, charged quality of the space around them. He accepted the glass, nodded briefly to the waiter, and turned back to Lorenzo and the two businessmen who had been part of the conversation before Natalie's arrival.As though
Chapter 238
Before Joshua could even respond, Lorenzo's expression darkened.He had been moving toward the exchange since Natalie crossed the room — the specific, quiet repositioning of a host who had identified something developing in his event that required his attention. He had covered the distance with the unhurried, directed quality he brought to all movement, and he had arrived at the edge of the exchange in time to hear Natalie's implication in its full, unambiguous shape.He stepped forward.Not aggressively — not with the theatrical, confrontational quality of someone making a scene. With the composed, certain authority of a man who had something to say and had identified the moment to say it and was not going to allow the moment to pass without saying it."Ms. Cavesh," he said.His voice carried through the immediately surrounding space with the specific, clean quality of a voice that had been in significant rooms long enough to know how to fill them without raising its volume. The conv
Chapter 237
As the banquet continued, guests freely moved around the hall.The formal program had concluded with Lorenzo's stage appearance, and the event had transitioned into its final, social phase — the specific, fluid quality of a significant gathering releasing its structure and allowing the people inside it to do what they had actually come to do, which was to find the conversations that mattered and have them without the scaffolding of scheduled programming. Groups formed and dissolved with the natural, purposeful quality of people who understood the value of their time in a room like this and were using it accordingly.Natalie was not using it accordingly.She was standing where she had been standing when Joshua looked away, and the distraction was complete and consuming. The conversations around her — the potential collaborations, the business discussions, the specific, professional networking that she had come to this banquet intending to conduct with the systematic efficiency she brou
Chapter 236
Natalie gave a slight nod but did not respond immediately.The nod was the specific, minimal variety — not the emphatic, confirming nod of someone who has received something that has settled a question, but the smaller, more automatic nod of someone whose body has produced a social response while their mind was occupied elsewhere. She nodded and said nothing and continued looking at the banquet hall with the specific, inward quality of someone who was processing rather than engaging.For the first time in a long while, she did not immediately accept Mark's words.She was aware of this.The awareness arrived with the specific, slightly uncomfortable quality of someone noticing a change in their own behavior and finding the change significant. She had been accepting Mark's words — the specific, comfortable explanations that converted difficult observations into manageable ones — with the automatic efficiency of someone who had developed the habit through long, consistent practice. The h
Chapter 235
Even after Lorenzo stepped down from the stage, the discussion surrounding Joshua did not die down.It moved through the banquet hall with the specific, sustained quality of something that had found its subject and was not ready to release it — the animated, forward-leaning conversations of people who had received significant information and were processing it through the natural, social mechanism of sharing it with the people around them. Groups formed and reformed around the topic with the fluid momentum of a room that had identified something worth discussing."The company he invested in was essentially finished," a man near the bar said to his companion, his voice carrying the specific, animated quality of someone who had just verified something and found the verification remarkable. "I remember when the analysis pieces came out. Multiple firms had written it off. The consensus was complete.""And he went in anyway," his companion said."Significantly," the first man confirmed. "N
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