I Gave My Ring to My Wife While She Sat With Her Lover. What Happened Next.

That snake who’s been fighting her expansion plans. I nodded. She’s been funding his campaigns with our money. A lot of it. Dad closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened them, there was steel in his gaze. How much do you need for the medical bills? I shook my head. Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure something out like hell. Dad growled. I’ve got savings. Use it. We’re not touching your retirement. I insisted. Dr. Mitchell, who had been checking Dad’s vitals, spoke up unexpectedly. There’s an experimental treatment program that might cover most of the expenses. I was going to mention it this afternoon. We all looked at her. Your father’s case fits the profile, she continued. I need to submit his application today. Do it, Dad said immediately. As Dr. Mitchell left to get the paperwork, Dad gripped my hand with surprising strength. Now, he said, “Tell me how we’re going to fight back.” The next day, Dad was moved to a standard room. Another positive step. Emily had gone to collect some of his things from the house. Reluctantly agreeing to see her mother. I was reviewing the application for the experimental treatment program with Dr.

Mitchell when my phone rang. It was her family friend Thomas Reed. Steve, I need to talk to you, he said, his voice urgent. About Jeffrey Elliot. What about him? I asked, stepping into the hallway.

I’ve been looking into his environmental foundation since Bill called. It’s mostly a shell. The real money goes to a development company that’s been quietly buying land around vineyards that face financial troubles. I felt cold. He’s not protecting land. He’s acquiring it.

Exactly. And guess who sits on that company’s board? Alan Bronson. The name meant nothing to me. Who’s that? Marina developer from the coast. Word is he’s looking to expand inland. Luxury homes with vineyard views, but without the environmental impact of actual working vineyards. As the pieces fell into place, my phone beeped with a text from Emily. Coming back with grandpa’s things. Mom insists on coming too.

Sorry, I barely had time to process this when Bill called. Steve. Patricia admitted everything. Elliot’s been manipulating her to get information about my cases involving land use. She swears nothing physical happened. I sighed. Thomas just called. Elliot’s working with a developer named Bronson.

They’re targeting multiple properties.

Bill cursed. Including yours. Looks that way. I’m coming to the hospital. He said, “We need to confront this head-on.” An hour later, the hospital room had become command central. Bill and Thomas had arrived, and we were reviewing evidence when Emily appeared with Dad’s overnight bag and Liz trailing behind her. Liz froze when she saw the assembled group. “Steve, what’s going on? That’s what we’d all like to know.” I replied evenly, “How long have you been helping Elliot and Bronson target our vineyard?” Her face pald. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bill stood. We have a financial records Liz and Patricia has admitted her part.

Patricia Liz look confused. What does she have to do with this? Just then my phone rang. An unknown number. I answer cautiously. Mr. Anderson, this is Alan Bronson. Came a smooth voice. I think it’s time we had a conversation about the future of Anderson Estates. I put the phone on speaker. You’re on with me.

Bill Baker, Thomas Reed, and my wife who’s been helping your partner defraud my family. There was a pause, then a chuckle. Fascinating. I was calling to offer you a way out of the financial mess you’re in, but it seems we have more to discuss. Liz’s eyes widened in shock. For the first time, I wondered if she truly understood what she’d gotten involved in. The hospital room fell silent after Bronson’s call ended. Liz stood frozen, her face ashen as the implication sank in. “You really didn’t know,” I said. “More statement than question.” She shook her head slowly.

Jeffrey said his foundation was fighting for sustainable agriculture. He said your expansion would damage the watershed. Bill stepped forward. The development company he’s connected to has already purchased three vineyards that went under after his lawsuits and replace them with luxury housing developments, Thomas added with vineyard views at premium prices. Liz sank into a chair. I never I didn’t. She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face.

Steve, I swear I didn’t know about any development plans. Maybe not, I said, my voice even. But you knew you were taking our money, our daughter’s college fund to finance the man who was actively trying to destroy my business. Emily, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. How could you, Mom?

You’ve always talked about the importance of land, of what dad does.

Before Liz could answer, Dad’s heart monitor began beeping rapidly. His face had gone gray, his breathing labored.

“Everyone out!” I ordered, hitting the nurse call button. “Ow!” The medical team rushed in as we cleared the room.

Dr. Cameron arrived moments later, barking orders as she assessed his condition. “The next hour was the longest of my life.” Finally, Dr.

Cameron emerged, looking tired but relieved. “He stabilized,” she said.

“But this episode makes me concerned about stress triggers. I’m afraid you’ll need to keep any confrontations away from his room. I nodded, guilt washing over me in my determination to expose the truth. I’d endanger my father. As the others talked in hush tones down the hall, Dr.

Mitchell approached me. The application for the experimental program was approved, she said quietly. The treatments are covered, but there’s a complication. The procedure needs to be done at the University Hospital in San Francisco. When? as soon as he stable for transport. 3 days perhaps. I ran a hand through my hair. The vineyard needed me, especially now, but dad needed me more. We’ll make it work, I said firmly. Dr. Mitchell hesitated.

There’s something else. I reviewed your father’s financial records as part of the application. There was a recent transfer from his personal account to the vineyard’s business account. Dollar 250 0. I stared at her. That’s impossible. I would never take his retirement money. The transfer was authorized last week before his heart attack. She said the signature on the form was yours. Cold realization dawned.