Page 58 of Billionaire’s Ruin

He was not my problem.

The thought should’ve made me feel free. Instead, a cold current rippled through me, like a bucket of ice water poured down my spine. My stomach twisted, sharp and nauseating.

Liam didn’t know what kind of situation Kai was in—and worse, he didn’t care enough to ask. He disliked Kai too much to even feign concern.

If I really wanted answers, I’d have to go to my other brother.

Was Kai kidnapped? God, I hoped not.

Rich men have a habit of getting themselves into ridiculous, dangerous situations. But in China? With their surveillance systems? It seemed unlikely.

Was he hurt? Injured? That felt more plausible. But Kai would have had the best doctors around him if that were the case. Unless…

Unless he was sick.

No. That didn’t make sense. He’d been fine when I left him. Perfectly fine. He never mentioned any illness. Unless he’d lied to me.

My mind spun through possibilities like a broken carousel.

Maybe Lucy had dumped him.

Maybe he’d run off.

Maybe—

I shook my head, letting out a soft, humorless laugh. “God, June, you sound insane,” I muttered under my breath.

The barista handed over my latte, giving me a hesitant smile, as if she wasn’t sure whether to offer sympathy or call security. I must’ve been wearing every emotion on my face for the world to read.

I checked the time. It had taken her ten whole minutes to make my coffee. In New York, people would’ve burned the place down by now.

By the time my phone buzzed, Liam had already moved mountains. The meeting with the director was set.

Eagerly, I headed to the main reception. Dato’ Hor’s assistant escorted me through a quiet hallway that didn’t appear on any hospital map. Dato’ Hor’s office wasn’t listed in the directory either—discreet by design, apparently.

When I asked why, she chuckled softly. “Security measure,” she said. “Some patients—or their families—don’t take bad news very well. At my age, I prefer peace to confrontation.”

Only later did I learn that Dato’ Hor was no ordinary administrator. She was a world-renowned heart surgeon who had once lectured at my brother’s university—briefly covering a course while a professor was on maternity leave.

Dato’ Hor’s late husband had founded the institution fifty years ago, and though her children now lived in Australia; none had followed their parents’ path in medicine. The timing of Liam’s call couldn’t have been more perfect.

She’d been ready to retire, but no buyer had ever felt right.

“The hospital is like my child,” she said with a wistful smile. “I can’t hand it to someone who only sees numbers.”

Liam’s offer—over asking price, fifty-one percent of shares—gave her what she wanted: a chance to step back, yet still keep watch. She would remain on board for five years as a supervising consultant, ensuring that her legacy was safe before handing over the rest.

When she heard urgency behind our request, I couldn’t lie to Dato’ Hor. Not a woman like her, with those calm, knowing eyes that seemed to draw the truth right out of you.

She offered a soft, grandmotherly expression that disarmed every defense I had.

The kind of smile that made people confess their fears, their sins, their secrets.

Not only did she not judge me for the impulsive decision—I could tell she understood exactly where I was coming from. It was, after all, the very reason she and her husband had started their own clinic years ago. They wanted the freedom to practice medicine their way, to push boundaries and pursue research without bureaucracy or interference.

And if she hadn’t made that choice, she might never have tested the technologies and techniques that made her one of the best in the world.

What followed our meeting was an informal handover. Nothing had been signed, but Dato’ Hor trusted us—trusted me—that we would honor our end of the deal.