6 Stubborn as always

~Hospital~

The hospital room was tense, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Elder Allen, a man who rarely showed vulnerability, stood at the foot of Davis's bed, his hands trembling slightly as he clasped them together. His voice, filled with regret, broke the silence.

"Davis, I failed to protect you," Elder Allen began, his gaze fixed on his grandson. "I should have done more ... to shield you from all of this."

Davis, propped up against the pillows, didn't spare his grandfather a glance. His jaw was clenched, his eyes cold and distant as he stared blankly at the wall. This apology is supposed to offer solace and consolation but the reality before him made him smolder with rage and irritation.

Seeing him unresponsive Elder Allen took a hesitant step closer. "You've been through so much. I—"

"That's enough," Davis cut him off sharply, his voice low as he turned his head to finally meet his grandfather's gaze, his face contorted with rage with traces of exhaustion on his brow. a mixture of anger and exhaustion. "No need crying over spilled milk so don't waste your breath,Grandfather. Words won't fix this and you know it as much as I do."

Elder Allen flinched at the bitterness in Davis's tone but said nothing. Before he could gather his thoughts, Davis's voice rang out again, louder this time.

"Get me discharged."

The command was abrupt, catching everyone off guard. Ethan, who had been standing silently in the corner, stepped forward in shock. "Sir, this isn't possible, you are still injured," he protested, his voice laced with worry. "Your legs... they're not yet in a good shape. You need time to recover—"

"Are you saying lying in this hospital bed will miraculously heal me?" Davis snapped, his tone sharp that Ethan flinched. But he continued "Tell me, Ethan. Do you think living in the hospital will heal my legs?"

Ethan hesitated, it is very clear that letting him live in the hospital wouldn't change the status quo of the moment but then he is worried about his condition, he is worried he will deteriorate further, he is worried that he might not have accepted the reality and try taking his life.

He didn't want to imagine the pain that the proud son of heaven will end up in the wheelchair with no use of his legs. It is devastating to say the least. "Sir, it's not just about your legs. Your overall health—"

"I. Don't. Care!" Davis barked, his frustration finally boiling over. "I'm not going to waste another second rotting in this place. Either you get me out of here, or I'll do it myself."

Elder Allen sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging at Davis outburst. Glancing at Ethan, he gave a small nod, silently agreeing to Davis's demand.

Ethan frowned at the decision but knew it is not necessary to argue with him. "Very well, I will get it done in a few minutes," he said before turning on his heel and heading out of the door.

As Ethan left the room, Elder Allen busied himself with gathering the few of Davis's belongings.

The drive from the hospital back to Davis's mansion was depressing and silent, a silence that speaks louder than words. Elder Allen sat rigidly in the seat, occasionally stealing glances at his grandson whose expression remained cold and unreadable. He had been silent no matter what his grandfather had said. But one thing is certain—he would not return to the Allen family estate not now not later.

As the car drove into Davis private mansion, a grand structure standing tall and lonely. The compound was quiet save for the the presence of the maids and the butler who had come out to welcome him home. Their expressions a mix of worry and compassion while the maids are afraid of what might be their fate but then none was able to voice their thought.

As the car came to a halt, Ethan, stepped out of the passenger seat and quickly retrieved the wheelchair from the trunk. Setting it in place, he opened the door and turned to help Davis.

"Sir, let me—" Ethan began, his tone laced with concern.

"I can manage," Davis snapped,but his body responded in contrast; Ethan helped him into the chair.

Henry stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Welcome home, Mr. Allen."

Davis didn't respond. His eyes swept over the mansion, his expression complicated as he recalled memories of his life before the accident. He had left this house as a man with legs and on returning he found himself in a wheelchair— a shadow of himself.

Ethan silently wheeled him into the house, the maids watched with guarded expressions, unsure whether to offer assistance or stay out of sight.

Inside, Davis looked around the mansion with skepticism. He felt colder all over. His life has taken a different turn and this house is now a reminder of his past self and everything he had lost. Davis gestures for Ethan to stop as he issued his instructions to Henry—the butler.

"Henry," Davis said, his voice low but firm, "I don't want anyone hovering around me. You and the rest of the staff will stay out of my way unless I call for you. Understood?"

Henry nodded, "Yes, Sir".

The renovations Elder Allen had ordered ensured the entire floor was wheelchair-accessible making it more easier to "Take me to the study", he clipped and Ethan promptly followed the instructions.

Davis might have returned to his mansion, but it was clear he had left behind the man he used to be.

After wheeling Davis into the study, Ethan hesitated for a moment, his hands still on the wheelchair's handles. Davis turned slightly, his cold gaze meeting Ethan's.

"I can manage," Davis said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan nodded, stepping back. "If you need anything, just call. I'll be nearby."

The study was as Davis had left it months ago, the bookshelves lining the walls, a large mahogany desk he usually worked on, the sofa, and some other minor furniture and fittings that adorned the room but now everything felt different and it's like he's become a stranger to them.

Ethan waited lightly at the door, unsure whether to leave, but Davis's sharp voice cut through his hesitation. "You can go, I need to think."

Reluctantly, Ethan complied, shutting the door behind him. He sighed as he stepped into the hallway, pulling out his phone to attend to some matters that been unattended to while heading to the guest room he had previously instructed the butler to prepare for him, knowing he would be staying over indefinitely. Davis's condition required constant attention, even if his boss was too proud to admit it.

Ethan didn't have to stay. He could have walked away, let someone else take up the burden of caring for a man who had become a shadow of his former self. But their relationship had grown over the years. It was no longer just a professional relationship of boss and assistant. They were friends—though Davis would likely never admit it but before the accident he had unconsciously cared for Ethan's well-being like a brother.

"Stubborn as always," Ethan muttered under his breath as he headed toward his room.

Back in the study, Davis remained motionless, staring at the desk before him in total silence lost in his thoughts. With great effort, he wheeled himself closer to the desk, his gaze locked on a framed photograph sitting at the corner of the desk—a photograph of him with Vera, taken during their happy times.

His jaw tightened as he reached for the frame. His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted it, his reflection in the glass glaring back at him like a taunt. Without hesitation, he slammed the frame face-down onto the desk, the sound reverberating through the empty study.

Davis stared at the blank screen of a new laptop Ethan had acquired for him, his mind in turmoil . He knew he couldn't sit idle but he couldn't find the zeal to do anything but he thirst for vengeance.

Though Davis thirsted for vengeance, that desire seemed increasingly distant, almost unreachable. Every path he considered to to take was blocked by a painful truth; he is a man of yesterday. All his friends, allies, and business partners had chosen their sides. Desmond and Aaron, the very people he despise for their attitude, now held the mantle, while those he had once considered loyal were now working with them, abandoning him without a second thought.

In the eyes of the country's elite, Davis had become nothing more than a shadow of his former self, an object of mockery. His name, once synonymous with power and success, now elicited sneers and whispers. He is now a figure to be pitied—an outcast among the very people who had once hung on his every word. The men who had once competed with him now saw him as a fallen king, his throne taken by those who never earned it, yet wielded it without hesitation.

It was difficult to acknowledge, but it was undeniable. This harsh truth gnawed at him, sinking deeper with each passing day. He had lost it all.

Vengeance no longer seemed a viable path, only a futile wish.A sighed as he looked at the study again.