The Last Man Standing

Chapter 11 ~ Blood and Bruises

“Jason!”

The name split the room like a whip. Billy’s voice thundered from the doorway, dripping with rage, shaking the air. Everyone’s head snapped toward him, but Billy’s furious eyes never left his brother.

Jason arched a brow, lounging in his chair as though the storm rolling toward him was a mild breeze. “Well, well,” he drawled, dropping his phone on the table. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Billy didn’t waste another word. His fist shot forward with a c***k that echoed through the room, knuckles colliding with Jason’s jaw. The older brother’s head snapped sideways, his smirk wiped clean as he stumbled against the armchair.

“Son of a—!” Jason snarled, spitting a thin line of blood onto the polished floor before springing back to his feet. “You’re dead!”

He launched at Billy, fist swinging wild but sharp. Billy ducked, caught the blow on his shoulder, and shoved him back. Within seconds, the room was chaos—two Sinclair brothers locked in a storm of fists, curses, and raw fury.

“Oh my Gosh!” Clara shrieked, leaping to her feet. “Stop them! Stop them now!”

Richard moved first, lunging forward to grab Billy around the waist. “Billy, enough! Stop it, man!” But Billy shoved him off like a rag doll, his eyes locked on Jason, fists clenched like iron.

Jason came in again, his knuckles connecting with Billy’s cheekbone this time. The c***k made everyone flinch, but Billy only grunted, wiping blood from his lip before driving his fist into Jason’s stomach, folding him over.

“Where are the securities?” Clara screamed, her voice shrill, snapping through the chaos. “Get in here now!”

The double doors burst open, two Sinclair security guards rushing inside. They grabbed at the brothers, struggling to pull them apart as fists kept flying. Jason’s fist connected with Billy’s ribs even as a guard tried to restrain him. Billy lunged past the second guard, his fist grazing Jason’s temple before they were finally yanked apart.

“Enough!” Clara shouted, her chest heaving. “You animals! You’ll kill each other in my living room!”

The guards pinned Jason and Billy against opposite sides of the room. Both men were bleeding, breathing hard, their suits rumpled and stained. Richard stood between them, his own shirt wrinkled from being shoved aside, his face caught between disbelief and anger.

And then came Clara’s voice again, sharp and trembling. “Timothy! Are you just going to stand there and watch your sons kill each other?!”

Timothy sat in his chair, unbothered, the picture of calm authority. His newspaper had slipped from his lap, but he didn’t seem to notice. Slowly and deliberately, he leaned back, clasping his hands together. His dark eyes watched the scene with something almost… satisfied.

“They’re men,” Timothy said flatly, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Let them fight it out.”

Clara’s mouth fell open, her outrage spilling over. “Fight it out? Look at them! They’re bloodied, they’re tearing each other apart, and you—” she jabbed a finger at him, trembling with fury "—you sit there like a statue!

Timothy turned his head slowly, his expression cold and unreadable. “Clara. Enough.”

But Clara wasn’t finished. “Enough? Do you hear yourself?!” She grabbed a cushion from the couch and hurled it toward him, but it fell harmlessly at his feet. “You’ll let your sons rot just to prove some twisted lesson?”

“Mom, stop,” Richard said, moving toward her, his hand raised. “You’re only making it worse.”

But Clara shoved his hand away, eyes wet with angry tears. “You boys...” she turned back toward Jason and Billy, who were still restrained by the guards...“you will not disgrace this family with your childish violence! Not in my house!”

Billy wrenched against the guard holding him, his chest rising and falling like a furnace. “He touched her,” Billy spat, his voice rough, ragged. He pointed a trembling finger at Jason, his words vibrating with fury. “He laid his filthy hands on Riri. My woman. My fiancée. And you think I’ll sit back and smile?”

The room stilled. Clara’s breath caught. Even Timothy’s brow arched slightly. Richard’s eyes widened.

Jason, despite his swollen lip and bruised jaw, had the audacity to laugh. A low, mocking laugh that rattled through the tense silence.

“Oh, come on,” Jason smirked, his voice hoarse but dripping with arrogance. “Don’t flatter yourself, Billy. I wasn’t trying to steal her. I was just… testing the merchandise.”

“Merchandise?!” Billy roared, lunging again. It took both guards to restrain him this time.

Clara gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Jason Sinclair! How dare you? Your brother’s fiancée? Is there no shame in you at all?!”

Jason tilted his head, smirk never leaving his battered face. “Shame is overrated, Mom. Besides, if Riri can’t handle a little attention, maybe she’s not cut out to be a Sinclair wife.”

“Enough!” Clara’s voice cracked, raw with disgust. “I am ashamed to call you my son. Do you hear me? Ashamed!”

Jason’s smirk faltered for just a second, a flicker of something bitter flashing across his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced with defiance. He licked blood from his lip and leaned casually against the wall as though the chaos had been a performance for his amusement.

Billy tore against the guards once more, his voice like a thunderclap. “You go near her again, Jason—if you so much as breathe in her direction...I will kill you with my bare hands.”

Jason chuckled, low and taunting, before raising a brow. “Kill me? You? Please. The only thing you’re killing is her patience with how useless you are in bed.”

“Bastard!” Billy lunged again, his roar shaking the walls, but the guards held fast.

“Billy, stop!” Richard cried, pushing his weight against his brother’s chest. “He’s baiting you! Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

Clara buried her face in her hands, rocking slightly, muttering, “God help me… what kind of monsters have I raised?”

Timothy finally rose to his feet, his towering frame commanding silence. The room seemed to bend toward him, his presence sucking the heat from the chaos. He fixed Jason with a glare so sharp it sliced the smirk from his face.

“Jason,” Timothy’s voice was low, deliberate and dangerous. “You disgrace yourself. You disgrace this family. I have tolerated your recklessness long enough. But this...” he gestured between him and Billy...“this is a new low. Your brother’s fiancée? Is nothing sacred to you?”

Jason straightened, wiping his lip with the back of his hand. His eyes burned with defiance. “Don’t act like you’re shocked, Dad. You know who I am. You made me this way. Don’t play righteous now.”

Timothy’s jaw flexed, his silence heavier than any curse. For a long moment, father and son stared at each other, a battle of wills raging silently between them. Finally, Timothy spoke, his voice a cold decree. “Get out of my sight.”

Jason smirked again, though it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “Gladly. This house reeks of hypocrisy anyway.”

He shrugged off the guard’s grip, straightened his jacket, and strode toward the door without a backward glance. His swagger was intact, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. The door slammed behind him, leaving silence in his wake.

Billy stood trembling, fury still bubbling under his skin, his fists bruised and raw. He shook free from the guards, breathing heavily. Clara crossed the room, placing her hands gently on his shoulders.

“Billy—darling” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this” Billy shook his head, jaw tight. “If he comes near her again, Mom, I swear to God, I’ll end him.”

Clara pulled him close, resting her cheek against his chest. Timothy said nothing, his gaze fixed on the door where Jason had left, his thoughts unreadable.

Richard sat heavily on the couch, exhaling long and loud with his new girl standing near him the whole time observing, Richard dragging a hand down his face. “This family,” he muttered, almost to himself.

"This is a sign of bad luck Richard...this girl...you bring for the first time into this house and your brothers are already fighting each other—get rid of her" She said sounding unserious as she headed for the stairs to her bedroom.

"mom?" Richard echoed but Clara is already half way through the stairs, he turns to posha and apologizes to her—leading her upstairs to his room with her luggage.