The young Master's little prey

No time to share blames

CHAPTER 16



The following morning, Davis sat quietly in a chair in Elizabeth’s room, observing her peaceful slumber. Suddenly, the door burst open, and an agitated old man stormed in, two guards following closely behind. “Elder,” Davis stood quickly, greeting him. The old man initially seemed poised to confront Davis but softened upon seeing his daughter resting in bed. It had been over thirteen years since he had been this close to her. He approached her and gently touched her cheek, careful not to disturb her, while taking in the visible lines on her face, which filled him with anger and concern.



Davis wished to reassure the elder, perhaps recognizing the man's fear and protectiveness regarding Elizabeth’s well-being. “She’s safe now,” he offered, trying to maintain a calm atmosphere despite the tension. The elder, however, was fixated more on his daughter than on the threat Davis posed, and it was clear from his expression that their shared history weighed heavily on him.



The elder formed a question but hesitated, his voice shaky with emotions he hadn’t expressed in years. Instead, he focused on Elizabeth, asking Davis about her condition and well-being. Davis, maintaining his composure despite the gravity of the situation, shared details about Elizabeth's recovery processes and her gradual awakening to her surroundings.



With guarded words, he also alluded to uncertainties surrounding her past and the relationships she might have had during their long separation. The elder listened intently, occasionally glancing back at Elizabeth, torn between joy at seeing her again and anger at the circumstances that had caused their estrangement.



As the conversation progressed, it became clear that the bond between the father and daughter needed rebuilding. Davis recognized the complexity of emotions swirling around them—love, regret, confusion—and felt the urgency to facilitate their connection, understanding that it was crucial for Elizabeth’s healing. He remained vigilant, aware that their past held scarred memories, yet hopeful for the possibility of reconciliation in the days to come.

“Has the boy shown up?” the elder inquired sharply.



“No, sir,” came the quick reply.



“Did you not say you informed him?”



“I did, sir,” the younger man answered, his frustration barely contained.



“Mmmm, I should have ended his life when I had the chance,” the elder muttered darkly.



Just then, Timothy entered the ward, notably out of his doctor's attire, and was not surprised to find his father there. “What is this I’m hearing about Betty? Do you have any antidotes? When is she going to wake up? When will her injuries heal completely?” Timothy’s father bombarded him with questions, hardly pausing to breathe.



Timothy rolled his eyes, reflecting on the onslaught of questions from the old man. “I have not confirmed it yet; it is just an assumption,” he replied.



“Even assumptions are triggered by something, my son. You're not a dummy,” the elder retorted, his tone growing more intense. 



“The results of the tests will be out later today; we can only be sure then,” Timothy clarified, trying to keep the peace.



“Won’t you stay here for your sister? Why are you not in your doctor’s coat?” the old man pressed, unable to hide the insult in his words.



“This is a life she chose for herself, father,” Timothy stated, his voice steady but firm.



“Timothy,” the elder warned, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.



“We warned her,” Timothy continued, standing his ground.



“Timothy that's enough”



“What about Bob, have you forgotten what she did to all of us her family, now look at her?”



“The accident was never her fault!” the elder's voice rose, echoing in the sterile confines of the ward. He was clearly struggling with the turmoil of emotions, worrying whether his sons would forgive Elizabeth. The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unresolved tension. Davis, a third party present in the midst of the heated argument, felt a wave of discomfort wash over him.



Timothy stood, his figure taut as he processed the weight of his father's words. In that moment, the love and frustration clashed within him. He had always been the rational one, driven by the facts, while his father's heart seemed to steer the course of their family drama both men were not sure how Bob would react to all these. Betty, their sister, had made choices that had led her to this moment, but those choices also drew them all into the maelstrom of grief and anger.



“Don’t you understand?” the old man steered seeing Timothy calming down , his voice softening slightly. “We’re here now. What we should focus on is her recovery, not assigning blame in a moment of chaos.”



“But how can we not blame?” Timothy said gritting his teeth. “What she did... it was reckless.”



“And what we do now can either help her or tear us apart,” the old man asserted. “We can argue about who is at fault later, but right now, she needs us.”



The elder was silent afterwards, taking in his son’s words. He was caught in a melee of his memories—of Elizabeth as a child; her laughter, her charming mischief, and the dark road she had embarked upon. “I just... I just want her to be okay,” he finally said, his voice a hushed whisper filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken fears.



Timothy softened, sensing the shift in his father's demeanor. “So do I, father. So do I. Okay Let’s focus on what matters.”



The tension in the room hung thick, but for the first time, they were reaching an understanding amidst the chaos. The bond of family was complex, fraught with complications, but they understood that for Betty's sake, they had to find a way through their differences, pooling their strength together for the fight ahead.