Part 2: The Blood Will and the Shadow Master
The heavy wooden doors of Room 214 slowly creaked open. The sound cut through the sterile silence of the hospital like a blade. Esteban spun around, his blood running cold, hands balled into fists, ready to face the monster from his past—his billionaire father, whom he believed had died years ago.
But the man who stepped inside was not his tyrannical father.
It was Hector, his father’s most loyal personal assistant from a decade ago, dressed in a sharp black suit. His eyes were cold and devoid of emotion. In his hand, he held an old-school digital voice recorder, completely ignoring Yohandra, who was gasping for air on the bed.
"Master Esteban," Hector said, his voice raspy. "Congratulations on your wedding. It's a pity... it had to be cut short."
"Hector! What the hell are you doing here? Where is my father? He’s still alive, isn't he?!" Esteban lunged forward, grabbing Hector by the collar, his eyes bloodshot with rage and confusion.
Hector didn’t even flinch. He merely smirked, raised the recorder, and pressed "Play." A gravelly, authoritative, and terrifyingly familiar voice echoed through the room. It was Leonardo—Esteban’s father:
"Esteban, my foolish son. If you are hearing this recording, it means you have abandoned your high-society bride to run after your bastard child and that worthless woman from your past. You thought I was dead? No. A fake death was the only way to purge the traitors from the corporation and test your loyalty. Your marriage today was my final chess piece to conquer the empire. But you chose love. You lost, Esteban. Now, the lives of that mother and child are in your hands. Either sign the inheritance waiver, or prepare to collect their corpses."
The recording ended with a chilling, low laugh. Esteban stumbled back, all color draining from his face. The funeral three years ago, his tears, the entire empire he had built... it was all a twisted play orchestrated by his ruthless father.
"You don't have much time," Hector said, pulling a legal document from his breast pocket. "Sign this waiver and leave the country immediately. Otherwise, the order to shut off her ventilator has already been scheduled."
From the bed, Yohandra used the last ounce of her strength to tug at Esteban’s stained wedding suit. She shook her head through her tears: "Don't... Esteban... Don't give him the company... He will use it to destroy... destroy this entire city..."
Before Esteban could make a choice, the phone in his pocket vibrated violently. It was a call from his abandoned fiancée—the bride left at the altar. Trembling, he answered. But it wasn't her crying; it was his mother’s frantic, screaming voice from the wedding venue:
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"Esteban! Run! The police are coming! They say you are the prime suspect in your father’s murder three years ago to steal his fortune! The evidence was just sent to the police station!"
Esteban stared at Hector in utter shock. The old assistant gave a faint, sinister smile: "I told you, your father is always ten steps ahead."
