2024-09-10 08:20:13Shock rippled through the room as they heard the voice. A guest of the Washington family? Eyes turned to Tedmond, widening in disbelief.
To be a guest of the Washington family meant that Tedmond was a big shot or potentially related to them. Even some of the Washingtons' relatives had tried to get in but were always denied entrance.
How could someone like Tedmond be allowed?
“Are you sure it’s the right person?” Gregory questioned. Despite shivering, he couldn’t help but ask.
“How dare you ask me that?” the person on the other end bellowed. “If I lose my job, you're going to regret it! You’d better let that fellow into the ward, or else!”
Gregory was taken aback by the mention of his boss losing his job. As the call ended, he hurriedly bowed to Tedmond, terrified that he might lose the position he had worked so hard for.
“I’m sorry for not recognizing you, sir,” he apologized. “I’ll walk you to the room,” he added, raising his head to look at Tedmond. “Let’s get—”
“No need,” Tedmond cut him off, disgusted by how quickly Gregory had changed his attitude once he realized Tedmond was a guest. “I can find it myself, just like I intended to do before.”
The phone call had confirmed that everything was real, but Tedmond still needed an explanation for all this.
“Sir!” Gregory called out, but Tedmond ignored him and walked off to find the ward.
The women were equally stunned, unable to speak. They just watched Tedmond leave, clinging to the thin hope that they wouldn’t get fired.
Minutes later, Tedmond’s eyes lingered on the sign above the ward that read Room 509. The door was slightly open, and he could see the window but not the hospital bed. He hesitated, wondering if it was right to enter without knocking.
“You’re here,” a familiar voice said.
Tedmond’s head snapped down to see the little girl he had saved earlier peering up at him. She had changed into different clothes and was holding a teddy bear in her hand.
“My grandpa wants to see you before he…” she trailed off softly. “You have to come in quickly.”
Tedmond nodded and followed her into the ward. The first thing that greeted him was the stare of a middle-aged man in glasses and a frail old man lying on the hospital bed.
“Hello,” Tedmond said, swallowing hard. He had no idea what else to say. “I got a call from you and noticed my account had been credited, and you mentioned I’m the heir of the Washington family. What’s going on?”
The man in glasses bowed slightly. “I’m Thomas, the Washington family’s butler. You’ll get your answers soon.” Gesturing to the old man on the bed, he sighed. “This is Mr. Jeffrey Washington, the head of the family.”
Tedmond stepped closer until he could see the old man clearly, the little girl clutching her grandfather’s hand.
“Hello, Mr. Washington,” Tedmond said politely, controlling his curiosity.
Jeffrey didn’t look well, as if he was about to take his final breath, just as his granddaughter had hinted earlier. Tedmond realized the girl was indeed the Washington family’s granddaughter.
Jeffrey managed a smile. “Ted…” he called weakly. “I’ve finally found my heir. Welcome back, grandson.”
“What’s going on?” Tedmond asked, shooting Thomas a questioning look. “Why is he calling me his grandson?”
His question went unanswered as the life support machine began beeping, and the room filled with tension. The beeping quickened, and Tedmond froze. Thomas immediately sprang into action, pressing a button by the bedside.
“We need a doctor! Now!” Thomas shouted, his voice steady but urgent.
A nurse rushed in moments later, her expression shifting to concern as she assessed the situation. “His condition’s worsening,” she muttered, checking the machines. “We need to stabilize him.”
“Where’s the doctor?” Tedmond asked, glancing between Thomas and the nurse. He felt the weight of the situation crashing down on him—he had no idea what was happening, but it seemed he was now part of something much larger than he had ever expected.
“Dr. Howard is on his way,” the nurse replied quickly, turning back to the patient and adjusting the machines.
Jeffrey’s breathing grew more labored, and the little girl clutched her teddy bear tighter, standing silently by her grandfather's side, her eyes filled with worry.
Moments later, a tall man in a white coat stormed into the room. “Step aside!” he ordered, moving swiftly to the bedside. His hands flew over the equipment, exchanging rapid words with the nurse.
Tedmond stood helpless, watching as the doctor and nurse worked to stabilize Jeffrey. Every second felt like an eternity, and the feeling building in his chest intensified.
Jeffrey’s breathing became increasingly shallow, and the beeping from the machine slowed. Dr. Howard glanced at the nurse, and they exchanged a look that told Tedmond all he needed to know.
Despite their best efforts, it was too late.
The doctor shook his head, his face grim as he checked the old man’s pulse one last time. The room fell silent, except for the soft whimpering of the little girl clutching her grandfather’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Howard finally said, his voice low. “He’s gone.”
Tedmond stood there, disbelief washing over him. The man who had just called him his grandson—who had somehow linked him to this mysterious fortune—was now dead.
The little girl let out a soft sob, and Thomas closed his eyes, his expression unreadable as he whispered, “Rest in peace, Mr. Washington.”
Tedmond, unsure of what to feel, watched as the nurse gently covered the old man’s body with a sheet. It was surreal—a few minutes ago, Jeffrey Washington had been calling him “grandson,” and now he was gone. The answers Tedmond had hoped for had died with him.
“What now?” Tedmond whispered, his voice barely audible.
Thomas, though visibly shaken, straightened and turned toward Tedmond. “Mr. Washington made his decision before he passed. You are now the heir to the Washington family’s legacy, Tedmond. It’s up to you to carry it forward.”
Tedmond stared at him in shock, the weight of those words crashing down on him. How could this be happening? Just hours ago, he had nothing—and now he was the heir to a family he didn’t even know.
“What… what does that even mean?” Tedmond stammered, the enormity of the situation closing in on him.
“It means,” Thomas replied solemnly, “that everything Mr. Washington owned now belongs to you. The fortune, the businesses, the responsibilities—it’s all yours.”
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CHAPTER 707
The forest floor was a chaotic tapestry of churned dirt, shredded leaves, and the metallic tang of Caleb’s blood. Every few seconds, the rhythmic crack of Ivy’s rifle split the air, pinning the high-ranking commander behind a decaying log like a beetle under a boot.Caleb scrambled, his white hair now matted to a muddy gray, his expensive tactical gear torn by thorns. He lunged for a fallen branch to use as leverage…CRACK.A bullet barked into the wood an inch from his ear. He flinched back, breath hitching in ragged, humiliated gasps.“Come on, Commander!” Ivy called, her voice light and mocking. “I thought you were the king of this jungle. You’re looking more like a panicked rabbit.”Caleb gritted his teeth, eyes darting frantically. He spotted his discarded tactical vest a few feet away, the one he’d tossed aside in arrogance.If he could just reach the flashbang in the side pocket…He bolted.CRACK.The round hissed past his thigh and bit into the mud. Caleb dove, fingers claw
CHAPTER 706
The trigger of the Glock began its lethal travel, but the cycle never finished.CRACK.A high-velocity round tore through the humid air, shrieking like a banshee. It didn't strike Caleb’s head or chest; it slammed with surgical precision directly into the back of his right hand.Caleb let out a guttural roar as the impact shattered his metacarpals. He hadn't expected a ghost to be watching from the canopy. The Glock jumped violently, nearly spiraling into the mud, but Caleb, driven by years of muscle memory and a stubborn, elitist pride, clamped his mangled fingers down, refusing to let the weapon fall.Blood sprayed across Hugo’s neck, hot and metallic. Caleb’s eyes went wild. Even with his hand shredded, his instinct was to finish the job. He torqued his torso, intending to empty the magazine into Hugo’s throat out of pure spite.CRACK.A second shot barked from the tree line. This one grazed the slide of his Glock, sending a shower of sparks into his face. Stunned by the rele
CHAPTER 705
Caleb watched their display of defiance, his finger hovering over the trigger. He didn’t fire. Instead, he lowered the barrel and began to laugh, a deep, mocking sound that echoed beneath the dark canopy.“Oh, this is precious,” Caleb sneered. “The damsel in distress and the court jester think they’re a strike team. What’s the plan, Charlotte? You’re going to punch me with those delicate knuckles while the boy tries to prune me like a hedge?” He took a mocking step forward, completely unafraid. “Do you truly believe your fists and that rusted sliver of metal are faster than a 9mm round? I can put a hole in both your hearts before you even cross the three-yard line.”“Maybe,” Lottie said, eyes locked on his gun hand. “But you’re arrogant, Caleb. You want us alive so you can claim your prize. You won’t shoot to kill… not yet. And that’s your mistake.”Hugo tightened his grip on the knife, the rusted metal biting into his palm. He looked at Lottie, saw the unshakable resolve in her b
CHAPTER 704
Hugo’s chest heaved, his legs shaking from adrenaline and the long trek through the woods, but he stood like a stone wall. He blocked her completely, offering Caleb no line of sight to the Asset he so desperately wanted to reclaim.Caleb’s hand drifted toward the holstered Glock at his hip. A cold, predatory smirk returned to his face.“You think a bit of teenage bravado is going to stop a bullet? Move, boy. Or I’ll make sure your death is the last thing she sees before I take her back to the compound.”“Then start shooting,” Hugo challenged, his jaw set. “Because the only way you’re getting to her is over my corpse. And I promise you, by the time you’re done with me, the rest of our team will be here to turn you into Swiss cheese.”Lottie stared at Hugo’s back. For years, she had been the one shielding him, the one making the smart decisions while he played the fool. But looking at the breadth of his shoulders now, she realized Caleb was wrong. She wasn’t weak; she had simply ch
CHAPTER 703
"Go ahead. Push. Let's see if you have the stomach to break the skin of the man who used to feed you. Or have you forgotten that everything you are, every breath you take, was paid for by my hand?"Lottie’s face burned with humiliating heat. Every word was a lash, a reminder of the years she had spent under his thumb, beholden to his "generosity.""You didn't give me anything!" she hissed, her anger bubbling into a jagged, desperate rage. "You stole my life and called it a gift!""I gave you a name! I gave you a future!" Caleb roared. His voice turned thunderous as he stepped closer, forcing her to either stab him or retreat. "And look at you now. Cowering behind a tree, starving, bleeding, and holding a toy. We both know who is stronger here, Charlotte. You’ve always been the bird, and I’ve always been the sky. You can fly as hard as you want, but you’re still inside me."He reached out, his hand closing around her wrist with the crushing strength of a vise."Drop the toy before y
CHAPTER 702
Lottie froze.The tart juice of a wild berry stained her fingertips a deep, bruised purple, mimicking the dried blood on her thigh. The rustle in the undergrowth wasn't the light, hurried step of Hugo or the heavy tread of Marek. It was rhythmic, intentional, and chillingly confident.She pressed her back against the rough bark of the oak, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. But she was too late. A beam of light, sharp and clinical, sliced through the dark and pinned her."Eating berries in the middle of a war zone," a voice drawled, smooth as polished stone and twice as cold. "You always did have a terrible sense of timing, Charlotte."Lottie’s blood turned to ice. She knew that voice.She squinted against the glare as a man stepped into the small circle of light. He was clad in high-grade tactical gear, but it was his hair, stark, shimmering white even in the gloom, that marked him. He was the commander who had ordered the strike on the clearing; the man wh
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