I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 139: Fall From Grace?

In the best hospital in all of New York, a man sat motionless in one of the reception chairs. His eyes were empty, staring at nothing, his face devoid of life. The remnants of dried tears clung to his skin, and his black top was soaked in what looked like blood—stiff in some places, damp in others. It clung to his frame like a second skin, reeking of iron and smoke. But he didn't move. Didn't react. He just sat there.

Around him, three others were caught in restless motion. Unlike him, they couldn't sit still. They paced back and forth, their breaths uneven, their clothes just as bloodstained. But where his expression was dead, theirs were filled with anguish. Their eyes flickered toward him now and then, but none dared to speak. They couldn't. Not yet.

Then came the scream.

A piercing wail tore through the pristine white hallways. Hospitals were no strangers to cries of agony, but this one—this one was different. He knew it. Felt it in his bones. This scream was meant for him.

"Michael! Michael! MICHAEL!"

His body flinched before his mind could even register the voice. Footsteps pounded against the tiles, growing louder, closer, until suddenly, two figures burst into view—Nora and Christiana.

Michael's breath hitched in his throat the moment he saw them. Especially her.

Nora.

Her face was streaked with sweat, eyes wild with panic. Her chest rose and fell with frantic breaths, but she wasn't looking at him—not yet. Her eyes darted past him, scanning the room desperately, searching. Searching for someone who wasn't there.

Michael already knew what was coming, but when she finally turned her gaze on him, when those wide, tear-glossed eyes locked onto his, it was as though something inside him shattered all over again.

The tears that had long since dried on his face threatened to return, but he didn't move. He didn't blink. He didn't even breathe.

Nora stood in front of him now, her trembling hands curling into fists at her sides. For a moment, she said nothing. She only stared. Christiana stood beside her, just as anxious, but she didn't speak either. The air around them was suffocating.

Then, finally, Nora's lips parted.

But this time, her voice wasn't the frantic scream that had echoed through the halls. No. Now, her voice was something worse—something haunting. Low, cold, and laced with a grief so sharp it cut through the air like a blade.

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"Where is Darren?"

Michael's stomach twisted into a knot so tight it felt like he might be sick.

Where is Darren?

The words slammed into him, knocking the breath from his lungs. He wanted to speak. To answer. To explain. But no sound came out. His throat was dry. His mind blank. He could only sit there, shoulders hunched, head hanging low, drowning in the weight of it all.

Where is Darren?

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms until he felt the sting. He wished he could disappear. Wished he could go back in time, undo everything, erase the nightmare that had brought them here. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. Because the truth sat heavy in his chest, suffocating him.

Michael's heart stopped the moment he heard that name.

His breath hitched, his chest tightened, and for a moment, he could have sworn the entire hospital disappeared into nothingness. His vision blurred as fresh tears welled up, mixing with the dried ones that had long since carved paths down his face. His hands trembled on his lap, fingers twitching as if they wanted to reach for something—for someone who was no longer there. His lips parted, but only a broken whisper came out.

"Nora..."

The name left his lips like a desperate plea, but before he could say anything more, he felt the sting of a palm crashing against his cheek.

The slap came so suddenly, so violently, that it jolted him out of his stupor. His head snapped to the side, the sharp pain burning his already numb senses. He blinked up at her in shock, not even raising a hand to touch his stinging cheek. He barely registered the collective gasps around them, barely noticed the three boys who had been pacing suddenly freeze in place.

"Why are you looking at me like that, ehn?!" Nora screamed, her voice laced with something far worse than anger. It was pure, unfiltered terror.

Her chest rose and fell in erratic movements, her eyes darting frantically between Michael and the three others. But when she didn't see who she was searching for, her gaze returned to him—dark, wild, and filled with a gut-wrenching desperation.

Michael tried to speak, but before he could form a single word, her hand lashed out again, the second slap knocking his head back with more force than the first.

"Where is he?! Answer me, Michael!" she shrieked, her voice raw, as if it was tearing through her throat just to escape.

Christiana lunged forward, her hands outstretched to hold Nora back. "Nora, stop—"

But before she could reach her, Nora was already pulling her arm back, ready to strike again.

It was Lucas and Damian who reacted next. The two boys surged forward, grabbing Nora's arms before she could strike another blow. "Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?!" Damian demanded, struggling to keep her from lunging forward again.

"Leave me! Leave me!" Nora thrashed wildly in their grip, her hair whipping around her face as she fought against them. "Michael, answer me! Where is Darren?!"

Michael's throat tightened, his pulse pounding so hard it felt like it would rip out of his skin. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Christiana's voice cut through the chaos, frantic and pleading. "Let her go! You guys are hurting her!"

The boys hesitated for a second, their grips loosening just slightly—and that was all it took.

Nora wrenched herself free with a burst of strength none of them expected and launched herself at Michael. She grabbed him by the collar, shaking him violently. "Answer me!" she wailed, her voice breaking mid-sentence. "Ehn?! Where is he?! Did you send him somewhere?! Is he outside?!"

Michael's lips quivered, his face twisting into something unreadable. "Darren was—"

"WHAT?! WHERE IS HE?!" she screamed, her voice reaching a pitch that made the walls of the hospital seem to tremble.

And then, Michael finally snapped.

"He got shot!"

The words ripped through the air, deafening, undeniable.

Nora's body went rigid, her mouth slightly open as if she wanted to speak but couldn't. The sounds of the hospital faded into nothing. The beeping machines, the murmuring voices, the distant footsteps—they all ceased to exist.

Michael barely noticed. He was still speaking, still spilling everything, unable to stop himself.

"We've been here for nine hours already. Nine hours since we carried him in. They've been in surgery this whole time. I told him not to come. I should have sent him back. I don't know why he jumped like that, why he—"

He broke down, his sobs wracking his entire frame. "I'm sorry, Nora. I'm so sorry."

But Nora wasn't listening.

Darren's face flashed before her eyes—his smile, his laugh, the way he always pulled her into his arms as if he never wanted to let go. Her mind screamed that it was a lie, that this wasn't happening, that it couldn't be real.

"It's a lie," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head, her body swaying.

Michael reached for her, but before he could touch her, she crumbled.

"Nora!" Christiana shrieked as her best friend slumped forward.

Lucas, Damian, and Liam rushed forward, but Michael caught her first, his arms wrapping tightly around her trembling body.

And then, a sound tore from her throat—a wail so gut-wrenching, so devastating, that it sent a chill down everyone's spine.

"Why? Why? WHY?!" she screamed, clutching at his shirt as if he held the answers to every cruel thing in the world. "I told you! I begged you! Why, Darren?! Darren! Darren!"

She sobbed into Michael's chest, her entire body shaking with grief so violent it felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside. Christiana fell to her knees beside them, her cries blending with Nora's.

Michael sat frozen, unable to do anything but hold her. His own tears spilled freely, his breath shuddering as he tried to stay strong—for her, for himself, for all of them.

And then—movement.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the doors to the operating room push open.

A doctor stepped out.

Michael's breath hitched. His body moved before his mind could catch up. He shoved Nora and Christiana aside—not out of disregard, but out of sheer desperation. His legs almost buckled as he scrambled forward.

"Doctor!" he screamed, his voice raw and shaking. "Doctor!"

The doctor's eyes met his.

And in that moment, Michael knew—before a single word was spoken.

He knew.

Author's Note

Sorry for the short and late chapter. I wasn't feeling well at all, but I forced myself to write this. It's not what I originally planned—I wanted to end the arc in one big chapter—but I haven't been able to finish it due to serious pain.

The only reason I managed to send this one is because of you all. I saw the gifts and golden tickets you sent, and that truly motivated me to push through and type this. Thank you all so, so much! I feel truly blessed.

I'll do my very best to write the next chapter soon and give it the proper ending the arc deserves. Sorry for the wait again!

Special shoutout to VisineAnt, Lee_Jones_7767, and Hyper_beetle101! You three especially gave me the strength to fight through and write this. 💙