The moment Dr. Milton Carroway appeared, Elias’s arrogance drained from his face. He quickly straightened his clothes and rushed toward him like a frightened child seeking refuge.
“Uncle,” Elias said, his voice thick with urgency.
But Carroway didn’t even look at him. His sharp, assessing eyes went first to the old man on the ground, bruised and trembling, then to me where I stood with clenched fists, watching silently. The weight of his gaze was like steel—calm, cold, deliberate.
Elias cleared his throat, trying to cover his unease. “Uncle, can I know what’s going on here? This man—”
He tried to jump in, words tumbling fast, but Carroway lifted one hand, stopping him like a blade drawn to his throat.
“I don’t want to hear it from you,” he said, voice low but commanding. “I want the o
