Orson slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His heart pounded—part fury, part fear.
Beside him, Duncan let out a low, agonized groan as he shifted in his seat, trying to find a position that didn’t send fresh waves of pain rippling through his battered body.
The sound made Orson’s jaw clench. The discomfort in Duncan’s voice, the sheer weakness in it—it was unsettling.
Orson exhaled sharply. "That’s it! I’m taking you to the hospital."
Before Duncan could so much as grunt in protest, Orson stepped on the gas, the tires screeching as the car lurched forward.
Duncan turned his head weakly, his vision swimming. "Stop... stop... stop..." he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Orson didn’t even glance at him. His eyes were locked on the road, his grip on the wheel unwavering. "Dammit, Duncan! You’re half-dead! You need stitches, X-rays, pain ds—hell, you need a miracle at this point!"
He took the turn toward the hospital, his mind made up.
Duncan, his body screaming in protest, summoned every ounce of strength he had left. With a trembling hand, he reached out and clamped onto Orson’s right arm, his fingers barely managing to hold on.
"No hospital..." he wheezed. "Take ho..."
His grip tightened—weak, but desperate.
Orson glanced down, his heart twisting at the sight of Duncan’s bloodied, bruised hand clutching at him like a dying man grasping for salvation.
And for the first ti since they had left that godforsaken mansion, doubt flickered in Orson’s eyes.
"Fuck this!" Orson roared, slamming his foot on the brakes and jerking the car to a sudden stop on the side of the road. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly it felt like it might snap under his fingers. He turned to Duncan, his frustration boiling over. "Are you really going to pull this shit now? I don’t care if you get mad at —I’m taking you to the goddamn hospital! You look like you could drop dead any second, damn it!"
Duncan let out a breathy chuckle, but it was cut short by a violent cough that racked his already broken body. He winced, blood speckling his lips. Orson clicked his tongue in frustration, shaking his head.
"You’re a stubborn bastard, Orson," Duncan rasped, his voice hoarse. "So damn stubborn that even after everything you’ve learned about , you’re still here."
Orson scoffed, eyes blazing. "You bet your ass I am! Because deep down, there’s still sothing good in you—even if it’s buried under layers of darkness. What I don’t get is why soone like you, the almighty Duncan Veston, let that son of a bitch Bartolou Tucker beat you to a pulp?"
Duncan’s smirk was faint, barely there. "It’s a long story. Let’s just go ho."
Orson wasn’t having it. He exhaled sharply, then, with deliberate defiance, lifted his right leg onto the seat and turned his whole body to face Duncan. "Well, lucky for you, I’ve got all the ti in the world." His voice was filled with sarcasm, but his eyes were demanding—unyielding. "So start talking."
Duncan leaned his head back against the seat, a ghost of a smirk playing on his busted lips. "You heard it yourself earlier. I need money to save CorEx. And you already know why that company matters to ." His voice dropped lower, colder, as his gaze darkened. "I swore on my family’s grave that I’d do whatever it takes to make it mine."
Orson studied him for a long mont. The weight of Duncan’s words settled between them like a storm cloud, thick with unspoken truths and unresolved pain.
"Even robbing your own son of his right to inherit the companies?!" Orson’s voice was sharp with disbelief, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. "Man, that’s sick. I get why you want CorEx, I really do—but cutting Dylan out completely? That’s fucked up. I can’t stand by that."
Duncan exhaled heavily, his battered body sinking deeper into the seat. His voice, though weak, carried the weight of years of suffering. "I know it sounds cruel," he admitted, his gaze distant.
"But Dylan... he’s both a Veston and a Watson. That bloodline has been a goddamn curse, and I swore that it would end with him. I refuse to let him carry the sa burden that destroyed and Cammy.
He’ll have money—more than enough to carve out his own path, free from this legacy of ruin. I just..." His voice wavered for the briefest second before he steadied himself. "I just don’t want him to beco ."
A heavy silence filled the car, thick with unspoken grief.
Duncan coughed violently, his whole body jolting from the force of it. Orson imdiately yanked open the center console, grabbing a handful of tissues and thrusting them into Duncan’s hand. But the mont Duncan pulled them away from his lips, Orson’s stomach twisted at the sight—red, stark against the white.
"Fuck! Are you sure you’re still okay?" Orson’s voice was lined with worry, his earlier frustration now overshadowed by genuine concern.
Duncan wiped the blood from his mouth, his expression unreadable. "I’m fine," he muttered, his tone brooking no argunt. "Stop asking."
Orson clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching against the wheel. He wasn’t convinced. Not one damn bit.
"Yeah, keep saying that, like I’m actually gonna believe you," Orson scoffed, shaking his head. "At this rate, you’ll be six feet under before you even get your damn hands on CorEx."
Duncan let out a dry chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince of pain. His voice, raw and marked with bitterness, cut through the tense air.
"You know... there’s sothing I never told you. At one point, I truly loved Cammy. Maybe I still do. But no amount of love can erase the hatred I have for her family."
He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as the mories ca flooding back. "Peter Watson is a fucking monster. He deserves to rot while he’s still breathing.
If my father hadn’t uncovered the truth—that my brother was the product of Peter’s depravity—my family would still be whole. My parents would still be alive. My brother wouldn’t have suffered. Cammy and I... we might’ve still been in love."
Duncan’s breath hitched, but he pressed on, his voice growing more heated, more venomous. "If Peter hadn’t done what he did, my father would still be in CorEx. My brother wouldn’t have been sick.
And my father wouldn’t have gone mad when he found out the truth. That man destroyed everything. And now, I’ll make sure he loses everything—just like I did!"
The force of his words wracked his body, sending him into a violent coughing fit. But this ti, it didn’t stop. His whole body convulsed as he struggled for breath, the choking sound sharp and terrifying.
"Shit!" Orson shouted, panic flashing across his face. Without hesitation, he slamd his foot on the gas and yanked the wheel, making a hard turn.
"Hold on, Duncan! I don’t give a damn what you say—you’re going to the ergency room, right fucking now!"
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