The accident

Inside a black SUV, Daniel, his wife Michelle, and their six-year-old son sat in silence as they drove through the dimly lit road.

"Why does your father want to see us this late at night?" Michelle asked, concern evident in her voice. "I mean, why the rush?"

Daniel sighed. "I don't know, babe. You know how my father is."

A tense silence followed.

That was when Daniel noticed it—a black Jeep trailing them for a while now.

"Babe, I think we're being followed," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"What do you mean?" Michelle asked, turning slightly to check the rearview mirror.

"That car has been on our tail for some time now," Daniel said, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Michelle shook her head. "Nah, I don't think so. Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"Then watch this," Daniel said as he pressed the accelerator.

The SUV sped forward. The black Jeep did the same.

Michelle's breath hitched. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for their son in the backseat. "Baby, put on your headphones and watch your favorite cartoon," she whispered, forcing a reassuring smile.

Daniel swerved into another lane, but the Jeep kept up. The tension inside the car grew thick, Michelle clutching her seatbelt, Daniel's eyes darting between the road and the mirror.

Then, suddenly—the Jeep turned away.

Daniel exhaled, finally slowing down. "They're gone," he muttered.

But before he could catch his breath—

BAM!

A massive truck slammed into them from the side.

Michelle screamed as the SUV launched into the air, flipping three times before crashing violently onto the ground.

At the grand Wellington estate, Lord Richard Wellington sat in his study when his phone rang.

The moment he answered, his world shattered.

"What?!" he bellowed, his voice shaking. The line went dead.

His hands trembled as he dropped the phone. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Richard, what's wrong?" his wife, Victoria Wellington, asked, alarmed by his reaction.

But he couldn't answer. The words refused to leave his lips.

Instead, he forced himself to his feet and called for his bodyguard. "Sam, get the car. Now."

Minutes later, they arrived at the hospital.

When Richard saw the lifeless bodies of his son and daughter-in-law, the tears he had been holding back finally fell.

The doctor entered the room, his voice calm yet filled with sympathy. "Mr. Wellington, I am so sorry for your loss."

Richard wiped his face. "My grandson," he said, voice hoarse. "What about Barry?"

The doctor hesitated, taking a deep breath before delivering the news.

The doctor sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Sir, your grandson suffered a head injury during the crash. The impact affected his optic nerves, resulting in color blindness."

Richard's breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists. He bowed his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. A few moments later, he lifted his gaze. "Take me to him."

Inside the hospital room, Barry lay unconscious, small and fragile beneath the dim hospital lights. His tiny hand felt cold in Richard's grasp.

Tears rolled down the old man's face as he whispered, "I'm sorry… This is all my fault."

Just then, his bodyguard, Sam, stepped in. "Sir, you have a call."

Richard wiped his face and took the phone.

"Sir," the voice on the other end said, "the truck driver is missing. We've searched everywhere, but he's vanished. This doesn't look like an accident… This looks like murder."

Richard's jaw tightened. His fingers curled around the phone. "Find him. And everyone involved."

Yes sir 

Inside a dimly lit abandoned building, the truck driver stood nervously before Victor, his hands twitching at his sides.

"The job is done," the driver said, voice shaky. "I should receive my remaining payment."

Victor smirked. "Of course."

In a swift motion, he pulled out a gun and fired.

The bullet pierced the driver's skull, and his body collapsed to the ground. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the dusty floor.

Victor chuckled darkly, staring at the lifeless corpse. "Let's see who inherits the empire now."

He turned to his right-hand man, Bobby. "Are you sure they're all dead?"

Bobby hesitated. "Sir, the crash was bad. I don't think anyone could've survived."

Victor's expression darkened. In an instant, his hand shot out, gripping Bobby's throat.

"I don't pay you to think," Victor hissed. "I pay you to get things done. So go back and make sure."

Bobby gasped, nodding frantically. "Y-Yes, sir."

Victor released him with a shove. "And dispose of this mess," he said, gesturing to the corpse.

Bobby coughed, catching his breath. "Right away, sir." He hurried out, dragging the body with him.

Victor exhaled, a sinister smile creeping onto his lips. The empire was almost his.

Or so he thought.