Bella’s face turned beet red.
She stammered.
“That… that was to pay off debts.”
“What debts?” Leo countered.
“Our records show no major debt payments. The money was transferred to your personal account at another bank.”
“You’re saving it for yourself—while your husband is forced to beg with a charity form here.”
Mark whipped his head toward Bella.
Fury flared in his eyes.
“What? Belle? You said the money was gone to pay suppliers. You said we were totally broke.”
Bella panicked.
She stepped back.
“Don’t listen to him, Mark. He’s lying. He’s just trying to turn us against each other.”
“The data doesn’t lie, Mrs. Peterson,” I said, stepping forward.
“We have the transfer receipts.”
“You’re getting ready to leave, Mark, aren’t you? You know he’s going to die soon, so you secured his assets.”
“You want to be a rich widow while your husband rots in some run-down hospital.”
“You bastard!” Mark screamed at Bella.
He tried to hit her, but his body was too weak.
His arm swung wildly in the air.
“You tricked me. I left a good wife for you, and now you robbed me blind.”
“It’s your own fault for getting sick!” Bella screamed back, mask completely off.
“I’m tired of taking care of you—changing your bandages every day, the rotten smell, the bedwetting.”
“Your money is gone, Mark. You’re just a burden. If I had known, I never would have married you.”
A fight erupted in the room.
The husband and wife who had once united to destroy my life were now tearing each other apart like wild dogs over a bone.
Leo and I watched, arms crossed.
Deeply satisfying.
“Enough,” Leo boomed, voice thundering.
Their brawl stopped.
He held the charity care form in both hands.
“I don’t care about your domestic drama. My decision is final.”
Mark turned back to Leo, hope flaring.
“Son—Leo, please. Forget this snake of a woman. I’ll divorce her. I’ll come back to your mother. We can be a family again.”
“Please sign the paper. I need dialysis. I’m in so much pain.”
Mark was sobbing, mucus running from his nose.
Truly pathetic.
Leo looked at the paper.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he tore it in half.
The sound of ripping paper was deafening.
Mark’s eyes nearly popped out.
“No… what are you doing?”
Leo tore it again.
And again.
Until the form was nothing but tiny scraps.
He dropped the pieces to the floor in front of Mark’s worn-out shoes.
“Your application is denied,” Leo said coldly.
“This hospital is not a charity for traitors. And I, Dr. Leo Vance, refuse to treat a patient who has no ethics and no conscience.”
“You’re killing me,” Mark whispered, trembling. “You’re killing your own father.”
“You died to me eighteen years ago,” Leo replied, without a hint of doubt.
“The moment you murdered my childhood, you also murdered your rights as a father.”
“Feel free to find another hospital. But I guarantee you—with a medical record this bad, and without a penny to your name—no one will take you.”
Leo pressed the intercom button.
“Security, please come to my office now. There’s a disturbance that needs to be removed.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the voice replied promptly.
Mark slid from his chair.
He fell to his knees.
Amid the shredded pieces of his shattered hope, he tried to hug Leo’s legs—the same legs he once mocked.
“Forgive me, son. Forgive me. Don’t kick me out. I’m afraid to die.”
Leo stepped back, allowing not even the slightest touch.
His face was stone.
All compassion shut off.
“Stand up,” Leo said. “Save your energy for the walk out. You’re going to need it.”
Two burly security guards entered.
“Escort them out,” Leo commanded. “And make sure they don’t disturb the other patients in the lobby.”
The guards lifted Mark.
He struggled, screaming our names.
“Eleanor, forgive me! Leo—my son—don’t do this! I’m your father!”
His voice faded as he was dragged down the hall.
Bella ran after them—not to help, but because she was afraid of being arrested too.
She didn’t even glance back at her husband being dragged away.
The door closed.
Silence filled the room.
I looked at Leo.
His strong shoulders slowly slumped.
He let out a long sigh, like he was releasing a burden he’d carried for half his life.
He looked at me.
His eyes were glassy.
But a smile of relief touched his lips.
“It’s over, Mom,” he said softly.
I walked over and hugged him tightly.
“Not yet, son. This is just the beginning of their destruction.”
“But our part—yes. Our part is victorious.”
I felt my son tremble slightly in my embrace.
No matter how strong he was, kicking out his own biological father was still an emotional act.
But he did what had to be done.
He broke the toxic chain that had bound us for so long.
Downstairs, the real drama was about to begin.
Mark was about to be made a public spectacle as he was dragged out—and I couldn’t wait to see that final act.
The elevator descended at a moderate speed, carrying us back to the ground floor.
I stood beside Leo.
His face was still tense, jaw set, but his eyes were calmer than before.
Behind us, two other security guards stood ready.
Even though Mark and Bella had already been taken down by the first team, we were prepared.
“Are you ready for the circus downstairs?” I asked quietly.
Leo nodded firmly.
“I’ve been ready for eighteen years, Mom. Today, we end it all. I don’t want ghosts of the past haunting us anymore.”
The elevator chimed.
The doors slid open.
A commotion hit our ears.
The normally quiet lobby had turned chaotic.
A crowd formed a circle in the middle of the room.
Mark’s screams echoed off the luxurious marble walls.
“Help! Help me! There’s a crazy doctor in here!” Mark yelled.
Leo and I stepped out.
We didn’t approach immediately.
We stood on the steps leading down to the lobby, observing the drama Mark was orchestrating.
Mark lay on the floor, refusing to be dragged out.
He thrashed like a madman.
Bella stood at a distance, embarrassed and confused, clutching her handbag as if afraid it would be stolen.
Visitors, patients, families, and staff watched with curiosity.
Some people even took out their phones to record.
“Listen, everyone!” Mark shouted, pointing toward the elevator—toward us.
“The doctors in this hospital have no heart. He’s my biological son. I’m critically ill. I need help, but he’s throwing his own father out.”
“Where is the justice? Where is the doctor’s oath?”
Whispers spread.
A few older women looked at Mark with pity.
Seeing a sick man on the floor naturally evoked sympathy.
Mark knew it.
He was playing his last card.
Public manipulation.
“Ungrateful child,” Mark continued, crocodile tears streaming down his face.