Chapter 3
The next day, David stepped up his game.
He stopped with the harassing calls and instead had one of his coworkers we both knew send me a photo on WhatsApp.
In the photo, Linda was lying in a hospital bed, looking totally exhausted, with an oxygen tube in her nose and an IV stuck in her hand.
The whole vibe was pure "about to kick the bucket"; she looked like she was barely hanging on.
Under the photo, David sent a message, really pulling out all the stops with his dramatic plea.
[Emily, I just took this. The doctor says Mom's in really bad shape. If we don't get her into surgery soon, it'll be too late. I know I messed up before, I was a jerk, I never thought about how you felt.]
[But please, I'm begging you, please come back, okay? Are you really just going to stand by and watch her die? Just have a little mercy on me, will you?]
He was really laying on the guilt, trying his hardest to make me feel sorry for him.
If I were still the soft-hearted person I used to be, maybe I would've wavered, started doubting myself, and booked a flight back right away.
But now, staring at that photo, all I saw was pure comedy; it just looked absurd to me.
The photo was so obviously staged, every bit of lighting and angle looked like it had been set up for maximum drama.
I could even see, right next to that luxury bracelet on Linda's wrist, her freshly done, bright red nails blinged out with rhinestones.
Come on. Someone who was supposedly at death's door, hooked up to an oxygen tube, still found time to get her nails done like that? Who was she trying to fool?
I saved the photo, zoomed in, and took a closer look at the background.
The room was a private suite, super fancy, everything brand new, and outside the window was a perfectly manicured lawn.
It looked like one of those pricey private hospitals.
I forwarded the photo to my bestie back home, Jessica Bell, who was a head nurse.
I added a quick note: [Jessica, can you help me figure out which hospital this is and what's really going on?]
Jessica was the type who didn't waste time. She called me right away.
"Emily, what kind of stunt is your mother-in-law pulling now? Isn't that Harmony Private Hospital, the most expensive place in town?
"Even their hospital gowns are custom-made, super fancy. I went there with our director not long ago; recognized it in a second," Jessica said.
She paused, sounding totally unimpressed. "And check out that heart monitor, none of the wires are hooked up right. It's just for show, trying to fool anyone who doesn't know better. This pic is pure fake drama, totally staged!"
My heart just froze up.
"Jessica, can you do me a favor and check if Linda Grant's name pops up on any of the ICU or surgery lists at the big hospitals?" I asked.
"Piece of cake, hang tight," Jessica said, quick as ever.
Half an hour later, Jessica sent me the results.
It was a screenshot.
Turned out, not a single hospital had her name anywhere in their inpatient records.
Then she sent over another screenshot.
She texted: [But I did find her name in Harmony Private Hospital's booking system. Guess what she booked?]
I didn't even bother guessing.
Jessica texted again: [She booked a full-body checkup for next week, plus a package that includes eye bag removal and Thermage. The bill? Nothing crazy, just a cool 70,000 dollars.]
Now the truth was crystal clear.
All that talk about her being "on her deathbed" and needing "urgent surgery" was nothing but an elaborate setup, a total sham from start to finish.
They were using family ties and guilt as bait, trying to lure me back so I could play their personal ATM all over again.
They probably figured that if I came home, with the whole family crying and piling on the pressure, I'd fold just like before, hand over every dollar, maybe even end up saddled with debts I didn't even know existed.
Too bad for them, they totally miscalculated.
I wasn't the old Emily they used to push around anymore.
I wasn't about to call David out on his lies right away.
That would've let them off the hook way too easily.
I wanted them to be the ones to light the fuse on the powder keg they'd buried in their own backyard.