My Strict Boss Was Secretly the Heir to a Trillion-Dollar Empire

“Mira!” The machine beside her mother’s bed began beeping—sharp, fast, wrong. Mira froze for half a second. Then she jumped up. "Mom? Mom, talk to me!" The beeping intensified. Her mother had turned pale, her lips quivering. Her eyes fluttered but didn't fully open. “Ne… ne, please,” Mira whispered, her voice shaking. She slammed the call button. “Doctor! Somebody, please!” A nurse burst in. On looking at the monitor, she was a different woman altogether. "Code blue. Call the doctor. Now." Two more nurses came in. Somebody pushed Mira aside. "Wait outside," said one of them. “But that’s my mother!” Mira exclaimed. “We need space.” The door closed in her face. Mira stood there, shaking, her hands pressed together as if prayer could hold the machines steady. “Please,” she whispered again. “Please don’t take her away from me.” A minute later, the doors burst open. A doctor strode out, gloves still on. “You're her daughter?” he asked suddenly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” “We have to do the surgery now,” he said. “Internal bleeding. If we don’t act now, she won’t make it in two days.” Mira’s heart fell. She had been watching her mother's health decline over the past period. "O-Okay. Do it. Please. Just do anything to save her life." The doctor did hesitate. “There’s a problem.” Her chest tightened. “What issue?” "The surgery will cost fifteen thousand dollars. Upfront. You have just 48 hours to make the payment." The world had tilted. “Fif… fifteen thousand?” “I’m sorry,” he said, not unkindly. “We can’t take her to surgery without confirmation of payment. “That’s—” Mira swallowed hard. “That’s everything I don’t have.” "I know it is, but every minute counts," he said, now already backing away. He walked away. Mira leaned against the wall before her legs gave out. Where was she going to get the money? Fifteen thousand dollars. She worked three jobs: morning shifts at a café, afternoon office cleaning, and night shifts at a convenience store. She skipped meals so her mother could eat. Every dollar she managed to save went to hospital bills and drugs. And now this one. She was sad; she wanted to cry. But now was not the time. “I'll get it,” she whispered. “I'll find it.” She wiped her face, grabbed her jacket, and walked out of the hospital. She found herself walking down the street; she wasn't sure who to contact at this time. Her life lately has been revolving around her workplace, home, and hospital. She thought of who to call. She couldn't think of any friend or family member who could help her. Or perhaps there is something a member of the family can do. She paused… Tyler, her stepbrother. It has always been her and her mother since her father died. Her brother, Tyler, moved out shortly and never looked back. There is evidence online that he's been living comfortably, but he never responds to her call or her mom's. She brought out her phone to check on social media what Tyler had been up to these days, and what she saw was a surprise to her. Tyler has been spending money going to clubs and visiting different classy locations with women. Perhaps he was the right person for her to approach; after all, he was family… or so she thought. She headed straight to Tyler’s house. She has been there before, maybe once or twice. On both occasions, she was denied entry. But today is different; Mom needs help, and Tyler just wouldn't ignore her. As soon as she arrived, she was greeted with loud music at the door of his house. The bass was loud enough to shake the pavement. Mira stood outside the house and hesitated. The driveway was lined with luxury cars. Expensive laughter spilt from inside. Music thumped. Lights flashed. Tyler's place. Her stepbrother had posted pictures that morning—new car, champagne bottles, women hanging off his arm. She swallowed her pride and knocked. No answer. She knocked again. The door opened, and Tyler was leaning against it, drink in hand. “Well, well, look who's here,” he said with a lazy smile. "Tyler," Mira said quickly. "Please. I need to talk to you." He turned behind him, glancing at the party. “You see, I'm busy. “Please,” she said again, “it’s Mom.” That got his attention—barely. “What about her?” "She needs surgery. Tonight. They need fifteen thousand dollars." He snorted, “And?” “And I need help,” Mira added, her voice cracking. “You're my brother.” Tyler laughed. Loud. Cruel. “I'm not your charity organization, Mira.” Her nails dug into her palm. “She raised you, too,” she said. “She took you in when no one else would.” "Spare me the guilt speech," he snapped. “She’s dying,” Mira whispered. He raised his glass and took a swallow. “People die every day.” Her breath is trembling. “You just bought a new car.” “And?” “You're spending thousands tonight. I saw the pictures.” “So?” He leaned in further, his smile cold. “You think because I made money, I owe you?” “I’ll pay you back,” Mira said quickly. “I’ll work. I’ll sign something. Just—just help me this once.” Tyler stared at her, then laughed all over again. "You haven't changed," he said. "Still begging. Still pathetic." She felt the words like slaps. “I'm not begging,” she said, though tears seared her eyes. “I'm asking.” “Same thing.” She stepped forward. “Tyler, please.” His smile was gone. "I said no." She didn’t budge. "Get out of my house," he said. “I can’t,” Mira said weakly. “Not like this.” Tyler turned and snapped his fingers at the figure clad in black standing nearby. “Get her out.” The security guard walked up to her. "Sir, you need to leave," he said. "Just give me a minute," Mira pleaded. Tyler rolled his eyes. "Throw her out." The next thing she knew, she was being dragged down the steps. “Stop!” she cried, the rain starting to pour. “Please, stop!” The gate in front of her slammed shut. She stood there, soaked, shaking, staring at the house aglow with light and laughter. Like nothing mattered. Rain poured harder as Mira walked. She had no money for a cab and no strength left to cry. Again, her phone buzzed. Hospital Admin: Urgent. The patient's condition is deteriorating. "Just hold on, Mom," Mira whispered. "Please hold on." She wiped rain from her face and kept walking, her shoes soaked, her feet aching.