Ultimate Choice System: I Became The Richest!

52  Life is Fleeting

As Noah slid into the back seat of the Uber, he let out a slow exhale.

He had made his decision, and he didn't regret it. His hand absentmindedly grazed the phone in his pocket, though he didn't feel the need to check it.

The drive was silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional distant horns from the city outside.

Meanwhile, back inside Amelia's family villa, the atmosphere was far from calm. The entire house had shifted into chaos after Noah's departure. Adam, Amelia, and Carmilla stood beside the bed, watching as the doctors huddled around the old man.

His frail body seemed so small against the large, elegant four-poster bed he lay on. The steady beep of medical machines filled the silence in the room, syncing with the rhythmic rise and fall of his shallow breathing.

Adam, usually composed and confident, wore a look of deep worry. His powerful frame stood tall, but his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of the situation. He looked down at the old man—his father.

This man had built their family's fortune from the ground up, working tirelessly to ensure they would never struggle. Adam had inherited that mantle, but the sight of his father, pale and unconscious, filled him with a sense of helplessness he rarely felt.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with greying hair and an exhausted expression, finally stepped back from the bedside. "We've done all we can for now," he said quietly, glancing at Adam. "His heart rate is slow but stable. For now, he's not in any immediate danger."

Adam nodded but remained silent. His father's heart had always been weak, and it had grown worse with age. "Have you found out why this keeps happening?" Adam's voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable tension underneath. "He's been getting worse every day. Why?"

The doctor hesitated, exchanging a glance with the other medical staff as if they were silently communicating before one of them finally spoke. "No, sir," he said carefully. "We haven't. We've conducted every test we could—an MRI, CT scans, extensive blood work. Everything came back normal."

Adam clenched his fists but said nothing, waiting for the doctor to continue.

"There are only two possibilities we can think of," the doctor continued, his voice growing more sombre. "The first is… well, that the old master is simply reaching his time. He's in his twilight years, and his body may be preparing to say farewell to this world."

A heavy silence hung in the air, the words settling in with a cruel finality. Amelia's breath hitched slightly, but she said nothing, her hands clutched tightly together.

"The second possibility," the doctor continued, "is more concerning. It could be a new, unknown disease—something that has never been recorded before. It's possible that this illness has no obvious symptoms aside from the gradual weakening of his organs, leading to periodic episodes of unconsciousness like the one you've just seen."

The weight of the words sank into the room. Amelia's silent tears started to fall, her face pale as she gripped the edge of the bed, eyes locked on her grandfather.

"We will contact specialists from abroad, the best doctors we can find," the doctor promised. "But until then, all we can do is stabilize his condition—keep him breathing, keep his body nourished through the IV, and monitor him closely."

Adam rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a slow sigh. He felt utterly powerless. For a man who was used to taking control, who had led armies and faced down insurmountable odds, this—watching his father deteriorate slowly—was a pain he wasn't prepared for.

"I'm sorry," the doctor added quietly, bowing slightly before he and the rest of the medical staff began to pack their things, leaving the family alone with their grief.

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was thick, only punctuated by the steady beeps of the machines monitoring the old man's heart.

Adam's mind drifted as he looked down at his father's pale, unconscious face.

"Life is so fleeting, so unpredictable." He thought, in his mind. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Even he, the feared and respected man that he was, would one day find himself in this very position. The realization that even the strong must eventually grow weak weighed heavily on him.

He glanced over at Amelia, who stood silently sobbing.

She had been through a lot these past few days, from the terrible attempt of kidnapping her to her grandfather's condition.

She was now reduced to tears by the cruel reality of life. Without a word, he stepped over and gently pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in his chest, and for a long time, they stood like that, sharing their silent grief.

"It's okay," Adam whispered, though he knew it wasn't. "It'll be okay."

The minutes stretched on in silence, and for the first time in years, Adam found himself at a loss for what to do next. But as they stood there, a thought crept into his mind.

"Where is Noah?" He pulled back from the hug and asked curiously.

He remembered leaving so abruptly that he hadn't even had the chance to thank him properly. "Where's Noah?" he asked, his brow furrowed slightly. "I left so quickly… did he say anything before he left?"

Carmilla, still standing near the bedside, seemed to hesitate for a moment as she thought back. "He left shortly after you went upstairs," she said, her voice soft. "The last thing he said was that he wished your father good health before he excused himself."

Still thinking, she remembered how he offered to help the old man, but she quickly discarded the thought. It wasn't necessary to say it, he was just being polite after all. Adam nodded slowly, absorbing her words.

Amelia, still standing beside her father, seemed like she wanted to say something. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She wanted to mention something about Noah—about the odd feeling she had when he offered to help—but after a moment of hesitation, she decided against it. Instead, she let out a quiet sigh, following her father and mother as they turned their attention back to the old man.

At the same time, Noah arrived home. The Uber rolled to a stop outside his apartment building, and he stepped out, his mind still replaying the events of the night. As he approached the front door, he felt a strange sensation, a slight tension in the air.

Something wasn't right. Normally, his house would be dark by now—his family always went to bed early, around 8:00 or 8:30. But tonight, the living room light was still on, casting a soft glow through the windows.

Noah frowned slightly as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He could hear the faint sound of the television playing in the background, though it was muted. He walked cautiously toward the living room, where he found his mother sitting on the couch, her hands folded in her lap.

"Mom?" he called softly, surprised to see her awake. "Why are you still up?"

His mother looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of concern and something else—something Noah couldn't quite place.

It was 9:00 PM, well past her usual bedtime, and she never stayed up this late. She opened her mouth to speak, but for a moment, no words came out.

"Noah…" she said finally, her voice trailing off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The silence that followed felt heavy, and Noah's heart began to race slightly as he waited for her to say more.