Where Fireworks Fall

The card got declined. Again.

My daughter was dying on the operating table, and my wife had emptied our emergency fund behind my back.

I called her but she screamed at me like I was the crazy one.

I told you, it's invested! I can't pull it out! Are you stupid or just not listening?

And even if she does die, what's that got to do with you!

I begged everyone I knew for money. Friends, colleagues, my boss. It wasn't enough.

My daughter died in that hospital because the money didn't come in time.

Meanwhile, near the hospital, a massive fireworks display lit up the sky C my wife's romantic gesture for her ex-boyfriend.

Nurses passing by whispered, starry-eyed:

"A million-dollar fireworks show? So romantic..."

...

"Doctor, please, check again. There must be a mistake."

The billing clerk just shook his head, swiping my debit card one more time.

"Declined. You've got a few hundred bucks left, that's it!"

Impossible. Sweat poured down my face. This was my untouched savings account. I deposited money every month. It should have been over a hundred grand by now.

The clerk, seeing my disbelief, turned the screen towards me.

The numbers blurred before my eyes. Yeah, a few pathetic hundred dollars mocking me.

But there was no time for jokes.

I stumbled back to the prep area outside the ER. The surgeon was waiting, looking even more stressed than me.

"Give me the invoice! Hurry up... I need to get the artificial heart and the surgical team prepped!"

"Come on, man! Time's running out!"

He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing.

"You... haven't paid yet?"

I dropped to my knees. "Doctor, please, save my daughter! I'll get the money, I swear!"

He frowned, his voice tight with urgency. "You're telling me this now? You said you were paying immediately!"

"You know the artificial heart isn't standard inventory! We need authorization from Finance to pull it from another department! They need proof of payment!"

"Please... I'm begging you... save my girl..." I banged my head on the floor, the sound echoing down the sterile hallway. "Please save her! I'll get the money! Something's wrong, I swear!"

The doctor sighed. "I can wait. Can she?"

"Her condition is critical. Her heart is ruptured. We've done temporary stabilization, but that's all it is C temporary!"

Rage surged, useless rage. I knew he was right.

When they brought my daughter, Chloe, in after the crash, the team looked grim. They made me sign the consent forms.

The surgery was high-risk but with the top-tier imported artificial heart and equipment, Chloe had a real fighting chance.

Bottom line: it was a race against the Reaper, and cash was our fuel.

I'd been adamant then. "Money? No problem! Whatever it costs! Take everything I have! Just give her the best heart, the best equipment! Please, I'm begging you!"

Minutes after my confident declaration, the surgical team mobilized and was ready to deploy that expensive heart...

But I was the one dousing their hopes with ice water.

Seeing my ashen face, they knew anger wouldn't help.

"Look," the surgeon said, his voice strained. "Twenty minutes. Get what you can. Anything."

"If you can't get the full amount... we'll have to use the hospital's backup heart. Cheaper meds too..."

"The outcome... won't be as good. Prepare yourself."

"And if we wait any longer to operate" He didn't finish.

I understood. Without the best equipment, it was a prayer for a miracle.

Twenty minutes. I repeated it like a mantra, forcing my trembling legs to hold me up.

Money. I needed money.

My first call was to my wife, Samantha.

I'd called her right after the accident. No answer. Figured she was in a meeting C she had said she was traveling for work.

I'd just texted: "Sam, Chloe's been in a bad accident. Come home now."

I was too frantic running around the ER to follow up.

Now, checking my phone, I saw she hadn't even replied.

Panicking about the money, I hit dial again.

It rang and rang. The clock on the wall ticking, each second was like a knife slicing my nerves.

"Pick up, Sam, please! Chloe needs you!"

The universe heard my plea and flipped me off. The call went to voicemail.

"In a meeting. Don't bother me."

I called back. Straight to voicemail. Phone off.

I wanted to scream. That savings account? Only she and I knew the PIN.

It was supposed to be for a house down payment, or Chloe's college fund someday. I'd been religiously putting money in every month.

I didn't spend much. No fancy habits. Most of my paycheck went to Sam and Chloe. The rest, seven or eight hundred bucks usually, sometimes more with bonuses or side gigs, went straight into savings. All for emergencies.

Now it was empty. The only explanation? Sam must have moved it. If I could just get her to transfer it back, Chloe might still have a chance.

But her phone was off.

I took a deep breath. Calm. Stay calm. Chloe's fighting. Don't lose it.

If that path was blocked, I'd have to find another.

I split efforts. I asked my parents to borrow from anyone, everyone. Whatever it takes. Get whatever I can and wire it in fifteen minutes.

Meanwhile, I hit up friends, college buddies, my boss, coworkers.

One close friend hesitated. "Kevin, man, you make good money. Weren't you saving for a house?"

I choked. My savings were gone, and I didn't know why. "It's... tied up right now. I'll pay you back as soon as it clears."

"Okay, bro... but it's not much..."

Three hundred here. Five hundred there. My reputation as a decent guy paid off. Friends and colleagues scraped together maybe fifty grand. They promised to try for more, hoping to beat the clock.

I was sobbing, ready to kneel in gratitude.

Meanwhile, my parents hit a wall. Their voices were strained with guilt.

"Sorry, son... only got about ten grand from folks nearby..."

"They all said, 'He makes big city money, why's he hitting up poor relatives?'"

"Last time you visited, Samantha was dripping in jewelry..."

I tuned out their rant about the judgmental relatives. "Just keep trying! Get whatever you can!"

"I'll beg them myself if I have to!"

My parents sounded close to tears. "We already did, son. We begged."

My heart clenched. Tears threatened. I hung up fast.

I ran the cash to the billing office. Transferred what I had.

"That's only seventy grand. Nowhere near enough."

I pleaded, "Please, start with the best equipment..."

The clerk shook his head. The surgeon's estimate was clear: still short by at least four hundred grand.

Then, my phone rang. Samantha.

I snatched it up. "Sam! Where are you? Chloe's in the hospital..."

Her voice was pure venom. "Kevin Parker! I told you I was traveling! Sending fake cops to harass me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

I tried to steady my breathing, but then I heard it. A man's voice, familiar, in the background.

"Sammy, hand me a towel?"

My blood ran cold. A sick feeling churned in my gut.

"Sam, who are you with?"

A muffled sound, then half a second of silence before she replied, too calmly. "Who else? Colleagues. We're at a spa retreat after the meetings. Can't you trust me?"

It was still Indian summer. A spa retreat? "You're not...?"

The man's voice chimed in again. "Yeah, relaxing in the hot tub."

Rage flooded me. The sick feeling intensified. But I looked at the ER doors. Chloe.

"I'm not accusing... I just need to know one thing."

"Where's the money? Our savings?"

She sounded like she'd been holding her breath. "Money? What money?"

I forced myself to stay calm. "The savings account. The one with over a hundred grand for the house. Did you take it? Transfer it back! Now! Chloe..."

She cut me off, her voice shrill. "Money? You call harassing me over money?"

"Kevin Parker, you're being pathetic!"

"Don't bother me again. We'll talk when I get home." She tried to hang up.

Don't hang up! "The money! Our money!" I roared.

"I invested it. It's just money." Her voice was ice cold, dismissive.

I froze. Invested? Maybe. But draining our joint savings without a word? Now wasn't the time for that fight.

"Pull it out! Chloe needs surgery!"

Samantha exploded. "Pull it out? Kevin, what the hell?"

"Are you seriously nickel-and-diming me over this?"

I was practically screaming into the phone. "Our daughter needs that money to live! Can't you just..."

Samantha spat out two words: "I can't!"

The line went dead. Call ended. I dialed again. Straight to voicemail.

I wanted to smash the phone. Instead, I dug my nails into my thigh. Don't lose it. Not now.

The cold light from the ER doors mocked me.

No doubt now. Her panic confirmed it. The money was gone with her.

I was racing the clock.

I scrolled through my contacts, found a number for one of her coworkers.

"Hey, where's the company retreat this time?"

"Retreat? We hardly ever do those. Plus, it's a company-wide holiday today. Didn't Samantha tell you?"

I hung up, numb.

That familiar voice... it clicked. I frantically opened Samantha's social media.

Her latest post: "Business trip vibes!" Picture of her in a hotel room.

Her coworker said no retreat... Who took the picture? My head pounded. I zoomed in anyway.

In the corner of a mirror, a man's hand. Wearing a limited edition Rolex.

My vision blurred. I'd seen that watch box in her drawer. Thought it was a surprise for my birthday.

The surprise detonated in my face.

I forced myself to dial the number I knew belonged to the man beside her. Yeah, I knew him. Recognized the voice now.

Liam Vanderbilt.

Her ex.

The one who dumped her for money years ago, wrecking her.

I was her rebound, her lifeline.

I poured everything into making her happy again.

We got married.

Had Chloe.

I worked my ass off, overtime, weekends, anything to give them a good life.

And now this.

He answered. Silence hung heavy.

I choked down fury. "Don't speak. I don't care what you're doing. Tell Samantha to give me my money back. Now."

"My daughter is in surgery. She needs that money to live!"

"Whatever happens between you two is irrelevant!"

He cleared his throat, defensive. "Look, man, it's just money. Are you really colluding with the hospital over..."

I roared into the phone. "If anything happens to my daughter, I swear to God, I'll kill you both!"

Then I heard Samantha's laugh in the background, cold and cruel.

"Money, money, money. Is that all you care about?"

"Using Chloe to scam us? Pathetic."

"I must have been blind."

She snatched the phone. "Tell him, Liam! Yeah, I took the money! So what?"

"Feeling ripped off? Trying to claw some back?"

My eyes widened. The mask was off.

Liam's voice was pure disdain. "You heard her, Kevin. You know Samantha hates cheap men."

A nurse tapped my shoulder. "Sir? Any progress? We're ready to prep."

I begged the nurse, "Just a little longer! I'm trying!"

Liam heard it. "Oh, nice touch, Kevin. Really selling it."

"Why not say your parents died too? Or curse my daughter?"

"I always knew you weren't fit to be Chloe's father!"

"Fine! We'll divorce! I'm done!"

I tried to speak, but Samantha was already telling Liam to hang up.

"Baby, the surprise I planned is on the rooftop! Let's go!"

Click. Then Liam's phone went straight to voicemail too.

I checked the time. Maybe ten minutes left.

I wanted to call the cops to chase my stolen lifeline.

Instead, my phone rang. Unknown number.

"Kevin Parker? It's about your parents..."