She offered a sad smile. “I’ll call Aria Morgan, tell her we found it, and want it off your land.” Sapphire’s voice was quiet but certain.
“You need to make it public.” Bella’s tone sounded like she was apologizing for speaking.
“What?” I frowned at her.
“Well, Bob will be looking for that money. If you make it public that the money was found and handed over to the authorities, he won’t come here looking for it.”
Declan wrapped his arm around Bella’s shoulders. “That’s brilliant.” He kissed her forehead.
“And on top of that, Bob’s going to be fucking pissed.” Mitch smiled.
“I like the sound of that,” I said.
“You trust this Aria woman?” Mitch asked Sapphire.
“I do. She’s taken down her share of corrupt law enforcement officers. She’ll know exactly what to do with that money.”
Heads nodded around the table. With that decision made, some of the tension in the room eased.
A phone rang down the hallway. “That’s strange,” Declan said, pushing back from his chair. “Nobody ever calls the homestead line.”
“Maybe it’s about Frank,” Mitch said as Declan left the room.
I plucked a bread roll from the basket while we waited. Everyone was quiet as we strained to hear Declan.
His muffled voice got louder as he returned to the dining room. “Hang on a minute, I have my family here. I’ll put you on speaker.” He pressed a button on the phone and centered it on the table. “Hello, Doctor Chen, can you repeat what you just said?”
“Yes, this is Dr. Sarah Chen from Townsville Hospital. I’m calling about your father, Frank Branson.”
My jaw clenched at the word “father.” “Is he alive?”
“Yes. He’s in a stable condition.”
The room went completely silent. Everyone was watching the phone.
“Your father sustained a severe spinal injury from a gunshot wound,” Dr. Chen continued, her tone professional. “The bullet damaged his spinal cord at the T6 level. I’m afraid your father has suffered permanent paralysis from the waist down.”
Our jaws dropped. We all looked at each other.
“I’m sorry to bring you such tragic news,” Dr. Chen said.
But this wasn’t tragic news. That was the worst possible outcome for Frank, but the best for us.
“Given his legal situation,” Dr. Chen continued, “Mr. Branson will likely be transferred to a correctional facility with medical capabilities once he’s stable enough for transport.”
Mitch leaned toward the phone. “And what about his cancer?”
The doctor cleared her throat.
“Well, we’re a bit confused about his cancer diagnosis. We ran comprehensive scans and bloodwork as part of his trauma assessment. Mr. Branson has been told he has terminal cancer. Is that correct?”
We all blinked at each other. We only knew what Frank had written in his notes. “That’s what he told us,” I said. “He said he only had months to live.”
“Well, I’ve reviewed all his results personally. There’s no evidence of cancer anywhere in his body. No tumors, no abnormal cell growth, nothing. Whoever gave him that diagnosis was incorrect. He doesn’t have cancer, but he does have severe pancreatitis and kidney stones that have caused recurring infections. Together, they’ve been the cause of his extreme pain, digestive problems, and weight loss. He’s been suffering for no reason. But you can rest assured with the right treatment, he’ll be on the mend in no time.”
It took everything I had not to burst out laughing. I gripped Sapphire’s hand. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Absolutely. Frank Branson doesn’t have cancer. He will live for many more years, I’m sure.”
