Three Years' Farewell

: A Debt That Must Be Paid

Anderson did not answer at once.

He sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced, staring at the floor. The silence stretched until Olivia felt her heart beating in her throat.

“Anderson?” she said softly. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” he replied.

He leaned back, loosened his tie, and looked at her. “How much are we talking about?”

Olivia told him the number. Saying it aloud made her palms sweat.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s not help. That’s a rescue.”

“I know it’s a lot,” she said quickly. “But the company isn’t hopeless. It just needs time. A bridge to—”

“Olivia.” He cut her off. “Your father’s company has been in trouble for years.”

“It has problems, but—”

“But nothing,” Anderson said, his tone turning cold. “I’ve seen the reports. His management is old. No clear plan, no new direction. You pour money into something like that, you don’t get it back. You just make the hole deeper. Honestly, he should have declared bankruptcy a long time ago, taken whatever dignity he has left, and enjoyed a quiet, peaceful old age. Instead he insists on playing the hero in an arena he was never any good at.”

“So you’re saying you won’t help,” she said.

“I’m saying,” he replied, “that from a business point of view, it makes no sense.”

“This isn’t just business,” she protested. “This is my father.”

He did not look moved. “Hospitals and doctors, fine. I can pay for that. But bailing out his company?” He shook his head. “I don’t run a charity.”

“I didn’t ask you to donate,” Olivia said. “I said lend. When the company recovers, he can repay you.”

“Recover?” Anderson repeated. “And what if it doesn’t? Then what? I just write it off?”

“If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even have this company to protect,” she blurted.

His gaze sharpened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you remember, before your first project, when all the banks turned you away?” she asked. “When your own father refused to give you money to ‘waste on some fantasy’?”

His expression changed slightly.

“You came to our house with your proposal,” she continued. “Everyone thought you were just a rich kid playing at business. No one believed you.”

“And?” he asked.

“And my father believed you,” Olivia said. “He looked at your plan and said you had vision. He mortgaged a property and gave you the money when no one else would. Without that, you would never have had the capital to start.”

He said nothing.

“He took a huge risk,” she went on. “If your company had failed, he would have been left with the debt. But he trusted you. Debts aren’t just numbers. He backed you when you were nothing. You can’t pretend that doesn’t matter.”

His jaw clenched.

“And now he needs help,” she said more quietly. “I’m not asking you to fix everything forever. I just want you to help him through this. He poured his whole life into that company. If it collapses like this, it will kill him even faster than his heart condition.”

He looked away.

“Please,” she said.

The word hung in the air. She rarely begged him.

“You’re asking me to throw millions into a company that might already be finished,” he muttered.

“I’m asking you to give the man who believed in you a chance to stand up again,” she answered.

Silence fell.

After a moment, Anderson exhaled. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

“There’s no time to think,” she said. “The hospital needs the deposit now. The creditors are already knocking. If you wait, there’ll be nothing left to save.”

“Don’t push me,” he snapped.

“I’m telling you how urgent it is,” Olivia replied.

He stared at her. Something in his expression shifted.

“I’ll have my finance team go over everything,” he said at last. “The hospital, the company—all of it. We’ll see what can be done.”

“So you’ll help?” she asked.

“I’ll help,” he said grudgingly. “To a point. I won’t hand over an endless stream of money. There have to be limits.”

Relief flooded her. For a heartbeat the floor steadied beneath her. If he was willing to step in, then he still saw her as his wife, not just a burden. Maybe three years of marriage weren’t just some long mistake. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He looked away. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “If the numbers are as bad as I think, there may not be much I can do.”

“It’s enough that you’re willing to try,” Olivia said. “I’ll tell Mom. She’ll be relieved.”

He picked up his jacket. “Go to bed,” he said. “You look terrible.”

“You should sleep too,” she replied. “You smell like alcohol.”

He snorted softly and went into the bedroom.

Olivia sent her mother a message.

Anderson will pay the hospital fees and try to help with the company. Don’t worry. Just stay with Dad.

Her mother answered at once.

Really? That’s such a relief. Tell him thank you.

Early the next morning, Olivia returned to the hospital. The hallway outside intensive care was quiet. Her mother sat on a bench, clutching a paper cup of cold coffee.

“Mom,” Olivia said.

Her mother jumped up. “Did he agree?”

Olivia nodded. “He’ll pay the hospital fees right away,” she said. “And his team will look at the company’s debts.”

Her mother’s shoulders slumped. “Thank God,” she whispered. “I was so afraid he would say no.”

“He remembers what Dad did for him,” Olivia said.

Her mother squeezed her hand. “We owe him so much.”

“Don’t think about that now,” Olivia replied. “How’s Dad?”

“The surgery ended at dawn,” her mother said. “They said it went as well as it could. He’s still in ICU. We can’t see him yet.”

“So he made it through the night,” Olivia said.

“For now. The next few days are important.”

“We’ll get through them,” Olivia said firmly.

They sat for a while. Her mother stared at the ICU doors.

“I feel so guilty,” she murmured. “If he hadn’t worried so much about the company, he wouldn’t have collapsed. And now we’re dragging you and Anderson into this.”

“Don’t say that,” Olivia said. “Dad worked his whole life for that company. He was never going to watch it die. And Anderson owes him. This is nothing compared to what Dad did.”

Her mother shook her head. “I’m afraid he’ll blame us. Men like him… money is more important than anything.”

Olivia’s phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

She stepped aside and answered. “Hello?”

No one spoke. A second later, the call ended, and a message arrived.

It was a photo.

A restaurant. Soft lighting. Candles. Two glasses of red wine. At the center, Anderson and Ava sat facing each other, smiling.

His tie was loose, sleeves rolled up. Ava leaned forward, chin on her hand. They looked relaxed. Close.

Another text followed.

Your marriage is already over. Be smart. Step aside.

Olivia stared until the letters blurred.

So that was his “meeting.” In a flash she understood: the help he’d promised tonight wasn’t gratitude to her father, it was compensation, a way to quiet his own conscience while he sat here with Ava by candlelight. The realization tasted bitter, like the end of something she hadn’t yet admitted was dying.

“Olivia?” her mother called. “Is something wrong?”

Olivia locked her phone, forcing a small smile. “Nothing,” she said. “Just a spam message.”

Her mother studied her face. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Olivia replied. She walked back and took her mother’s hand. “Listen. No matter what happens with the company, my relationship with Anderson won’t be affected. Dad didn’t ruin anything. Okay?”

Tears filled her mother’s eyes. “I’m so grateful you married into a good family,” she said. “At least you don’t have to worry about money.”

Olivia held her hand tighter and looked at the ICU doors.

Her lips were curved in a calm smile.

Inside, something deep had already cracked.