"Dylan!" Cammy gasped the mont she stepped into the VIP hospital room. Her pulse pounded in her ears as her eyes landed on her son—propped up on the hospital bed, completely engrossed in his laptop. Beside him, his caregiver chuckled at sothing on the screen, their laughter light and carefree, utterly oblivious to the storm raging in Cammy’s mind.
Dylan’s face lit up the instant he saw her. "Hi, Mom! You’re back!" he greeted with a grin so wide, so full of life, it nearly shattered her resolve.
But Cammy barely heard him. Her heart clenched as she turned sharply, her gaze locking onto Monica with a silent, urgent demand— ’What is it? What’s the bad news?’
Monica exhaled, waving a dismissive hand as if to brush away Cammy’s fears. "It’s not Dylan," she said quickly. "It’s CorEx."
A cold dread settled in Cammy’s gut.
"The board held an ergency eting," Monica continued, her voice steady but grave. "The decision was unanimous—Duncan has been nad CEO. And that’s not all. They’ve accepted his proposal to rge CorEx Transport and Paynt Service with Veston Shipping Line."
Cammy’s breath caught. The room felt suddenly smaller, the walls closing in.
Monica pressed on. "Your father’s representative claims the rger makes sense. Both companies are in transport and logistics. Veston Shipping Line could be CorEx’s only chance at survival."
A sharp, uneasy silence followed. Then Greg, who had been listening intently, finally spoke, his voice edged with urgency. "You said they’ve accepted the proposal—does that an it’s already happening?"
Monica shook her head. "Not yet. There are still details to finalize, but one thing is certain—if CorEx is to escape bankruptcy, Veston Shipping Line must acquire a significant stake. That’s the only way to inject enough liquidity to keep it afloat."
Cammy’s fingers curled into fists. This wasn’t just a business move. This was a takeover. And it was happening right before her eyes.
"Oh no," Cammy breathed, her stomach twisting into knots. "If that happens... Duncan will beco the largest shareholder of CorEx. He’ll control everything—the decisions, the direction of the company—he’ll have the final say on it all." The weight of the realization settled heavily on her chest, making it harder to breathe.
"That’s strange," Greg muttered, his brows knitting together in suspicion.
Both won turned to him, sensing the shift in his deanor.
"As far as I know, Veston Shipping Line doesn’t have enough liquid assets to make a purchase of that magnitude," he said, his voice laced with doubt. "I could be wrong, but based on the last financial report I saw, they don’t have the resources to pull this off."
Cammy’s pulse quickened. "That’s what I know too," she said, her mind racing. If Greg was right, then sothing wasn’t adding up.
Monica suddenly stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with sothing more than just concern—determination. "Oh, Greg, please," she implored, her voice taking on a desperate edge. "For my daughter. For my grandson. You know business, and we don’t. Will you help us? Will you look into this?"
Cammy’s breath hitched. She recognized that look in her mother’s eyes—a look that ant she was already scheming, already calculating her next move. "Mom, that’s—"
But before she could finish, Greg reached out and gently squeezed her arm, silencing her. His touch was reassuring, his expression resolute.
"It’s okay, Cammy," he said firmly. "I was going to do it anyway, whether you or your mother asked or not. I will take my leave now so I can look into it." He turned to leave but paused just long enough to place a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Give Dylan a kiss for ."
And with that, he was gone—disappearing through the door, ready to uncover whatever secrets were lurking beneath the surface.
As soon as Greg disappeared from sight, Monica’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. She turned to Cammy, patting her shoulder with a mix of approval and condescension.
"Finally, I can give you so well-deserved praise," she said, her tone dripping with amusent.
"You actually used your brain for once. Well done, my dear—finding a man like Gregory Cross. A man with power, influence... usefulness. That’s a skill you clearly inherited from ." She chuckled, her eyes gleaming with wicked pride. "I can finally say it—like mother, like daughter."
Cammy’s whole body tensed. A fire roared in her chest, her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists so tightly it hurt. The words she wanted to hurl back at her mother burned on her tongue, sharp and ready to strike.
But she swallowed them down. What was the point? Nothing she said would change Monica’s twisted way of thinking. Arguing would only drain her energy, and Monica would walk away just as smug as ever.
With a dismissive wave, Monica continued as if she hadn’t just delivered a cruel insult wrapped in a complint. "I’m heading back to Arlon City today. Have soone drive to the airport—and stop by my friend’s house first, I need to pick up my things."
Without waiting for a response, she sauntered into the room to grab her handbag, leaving Cammy standing there—silent, seething, and battling the storm raging inside her.
’At least she’s finally going ho to Dad,’ Cammy thought, exhaling softly. "Maybe now, Dylan and I can finally have so peace."
She reached into her handbag, pulling out her phone to text the head of her security detail. But just as she began typing, an idea flashed through her mind.
Wild.
Impulsive.
Completely reckless.
She hesitated. She shouldn’t do it.
It was risky.
Irrational.
Probably pointless.
But it wasn’t for her. It was for her father—the one person who had always stood by her, always believed in her.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she made her decision.
"Mom," she called out, forcing a casual tone, "I’ll drive you instead. Let’s stop and get sothing for Dad on the way. What do you think?"
Monica barely spared her a glance. "Sure, we can." Her voice was indifferent, but Cammy didn’t care.
She turned to Dylan, walking over to kiss the top of his head.
"You’re leaving again?" he asked, his lower lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.
"Yes, darling. Just taking Grandma to the airport. I thought I’d pick up a gift for Grandpa on the way. Any ideas?"
Dylan’s eyes lit up. "Yes!" He reached for his laptop, quickly pulling out a USB drive and pressing it into her hand. "I recorded a ssage for Grandpa. You can give this to his nurse."
Cammy’s heart swelled as she ruffled his hair. "That’s perfect, sweetheart."
With one last glance at her son, she turned and walked out with Monica, determination burning in her veins.
Whatever happened next, she could only hope that this gamble—this one chance—would be enough to help her father keep their company from slipping away.
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