The Mother Imprisoned in a Villa

The red emergency room light blazed harshly at the end of the corridor. The nurse caught up with me for the third time, clutching the payment slip, her steps frantic: "Ms. Lynn, we really can't wait any longer! Your mother's intracranial hemorrhage is worsening. If the surgery fee isn't paid immediately, we'll have to suspend resuscitation!" My fingers trembled as I opened the mobile banking app. The gray words "Frozen bank account" stabbed into my eyes like an ice pick. My voice shook: "Nurse, I'll find a way. Please, just give me half an hour, only half an hour!" The nurse sighed and frowned. "We've already done everything we can to delay this, Ms. Lynn. You have to hurry!" Clutching my phone, I ran out of the hospital, cold wind rushing down my collar. My mind was a tangled mess. My mom went out to buy some things this morning. While crossing the street, she was hit by a runaway truck. Not only was her left leg broken, but the intracranial hemorrhage kept worsening, getting more and more dangerous. The doctor was holding my hand half an hour ago, his tone heavy: "Ms., the surgery fees are way short. If you can't make up the difference, even a miracle won't save her." But the emergency fund I've saved for five years in that account, plus the automatic monthly salary transfers, have all been frozen. Simon Green is my husband; we went from the college campus all the way to the altar—eight whole years. In the early days of his startup, I worked as a clerk in a small company during the day and helped him sort documents late into the night, eating instant noodles for six months and living in a leaky rented room for three years. Now his company's about to go public, life was finally looking up, and then something like this happens to my mom. How could he hold back the money needed to save her life? I took a taxi to the Green Group's building. The cold light from the 30-story tower shone brightly. I took a deep breath, tugged at the wrinkled hem of my clothes, and hurried into the lobby. The young receptionist saw me and quickly looked away, her hands clenched tightly. "Willow, are you here to see Mr. Green?" I nodded. "Is he in his office? I have something urgent to discuss with him." The receptionist hesitated. "Mr. Green is in a high-level meeting, but... Assistant Clark said she has something to tell you and asked you to wait for her." No sooner had she finished speaking than Lisa Clark walked out of the lounge beside the CEO's office. Dressed entirely in luxury suit, her figure was striking, carrying a limited-edition handbag. The diamond bracelet on her wrist glittered, almost dazzling anyone who looked. She walked up to me, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, but her eyes were ice cold. "Willow Lynn, I'm the one who froze your account. What, come to complain to Mr. Green?" I froze, anger suddenly surging through me. "Lisa Clark, how dare you freeze my account? That's my mom's life-saving money!" She sneered, raising an eyebrow. "Life-saving money? Your mother got into a car accident—that's karma catching up to her. If you insist on trying to save her, be careful not to bring that karma onto yourself." "What nonsense are you talking about?" I rushed forward and grabbed her wrist, my fingers turning white with pressure. "My mom has never raised her voice at anyone. Since retiring, she volunteers in the community every day, helps neighbors with their kids, takes the elderly to the hospital. How could she deserve karma like that?" Before Lisa Clark could speak, I raised my hand and slapped her twice. "Slap! Slap!" The sharp sounds echoed clearly in the quiet hall. Lisa Clark covered her face, tears streaming instantly, and screamed as she turned around, "Mr. Green! Mr. Green, look!"