Page 12 of Begin Again, Part 1

"He didn't want to worry you," Willow said. "After you took over from him, he planned to seek treatment overseas."

"He should have told me sooner!" Liam ranted as they stepped inside the elevator. "I wouldn't have fought him so hard. How bad is it?"

"He needs immediate surgery to remove part of his colon," Holly said.

Liam gaped at his sisters. They both seemed to know so much about their father's condition. "Am I the only one who didn't know?"

Willow rubbed her swollen eyes with the back of her hand. "We wanted to tell you, but Dad made us promise not to. He knew you were training hard. He didn't want to distract you from the tournament.

"You think I care about any of that now—" Liam was about to lose his shit. But the lift dinged open, pausing what could have been their biggest fight yet.

There were several guards stationed throughout the VIP ward. Two stood outside Clarke's private room. Their only job was to keep the media out. The last thing they wanted was news of his father, true or otherwise, making the rounds. A CEO on his deathbed wasn't good for business and share prices.

Liam opened his arms as soon as they stepped inside and hugged his mom. She wept loudly when he patted her head.

It made sense now. Her lack of inspiration, the listlessness, and the faraway look in her eyes. It wasn't that she couldn't paint. She didn't want to. How could she when her best friend and soulmate stared death in the face?

"Mom, you should have told me," Liam whispered as he squeezed her.

"You are here now." She gave him a shaky smile before sitting down again and taking his father's hand.

Visceral terror bubbled in Liam's stomach when he stopped in front of the bed. He couldn't understand how his father had shrunk and aged so much in a few hours. But he looked so serene while he slept. There was nothing peaceful about what he was going through, though. Not with all the tubes attached to him, or the constant wheezing machines working hard to keep him comfortable.

He leaned over and kissed his father on the forehead.

Clarke opened his eyes, croaking, "there he is!"

Liam would have given anything to hear his loud, booming voice. The same voice he'd used to back him into a corner earlier. He missed it already.

"You are such an old fool," he said.

"You definitely take after me then," Clarke said, and they both laughed.

"We will fix you," Liam said with conviction. "We'll beat this, and you'll come back stronger. I need you to come back and kick my butt and challenge all my decisions."

"Don't complain when I do." Clarke's weak chuckle turned into a long spell of violent coughing. Even after making him take a small sip of water, it wouldn't stop. Willow called in the doctors, and the room was a hive of activity as they settled him in for the night, making him comfortable.

Clarke drifted off to sleep soon after they gave him a shot of morphine. Liam suggested they give Lois something to help her sleep, but she refused. She wanted to keep vigil at her husband's bedside.

"What's the prognosis?" Liam asked Dr North, the lead oncologist, a little while later. They were in a bland office on the administrative floor, discussing his father's treatment plan.

Dr North was happy they caught the disease early enough. But she worried it could have spread in the six months Clarke had delayed getting treatment. As things stood, she and her team were running tons of tests to determine the extent of the damage.

"I get that, but what are his chances?"

Dr North squeezed his shoulder. "We'll do everything we can to fight this. The five-year survival rate is about ninety percent."

Liam wished they didn't have to discuss the odds, but ninety percent sounded promising to him. Almost an hour later, he left Dr North feeling more optimistic than when he came in. When he checked on his father again, he was still out cold, and so was his mom. His sisters were wide awake, though, working on their laptops. Holly had to cancel her noon recital at the Civic Theatre and all future performances until further notice.

Willow also had a nightmare with a new art installation at Fugue, the art gallery she co-owned with one of her friends. She'd have to miss the first few shows, but her assistant would handle things in her absence.

Liam was about to take the only other empty seat in the room, in front of the bed, when the door burst open. Mrs Gibson and her impressive troop of assistants walked in, and life as he knew it was over. With little preparation and no guidance, he stepped into the CEO role he'd fought so hard to reject.

The next several weeks passed in a blur for Liam as he adjusted to his new role as CEO. His days began as early as 4:00 AM, and some nights he'd only drag himself to bed after 2:00 AM. He was cranky and short-tempered. Not surprising, since he was running on three hours of sleep at the very least. When he wasn't sitting in meetings or conferences, he made sure his father received the best care at the hospital.

He made a lot of enemies in and out of the company in those first few weeks. As a result, his security detail had to be beefed up following anonymous death threats. Liam found the constant presence of guards annoying, but the board didn't want to take any chances. Not after their share prices took a beating at the news of his father's illness. He wasn't their best choice, but he was the Messiah who could wade them out of the mess for now.

Three weeks into his new role, Liam shook things up when he reshuffled the executive committee. His father's cronies on the board of Anderson Logistics weren't thrilled with his brazenness. But if he had to pioneer the company into a new era, he needed young people with vision and the balls to do it.

---