~Allen Family House~
The study was well lit and silent, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner that kept it comfortably warm and the rustle of paper.
Elder Allen sat behind a large mahogany desk. His face was pale, his eyes ringed with fatigue.Every now and then, he rubbed his temples before focusing back on the papers spread out in front of him.
The door creaked open, and Alfred stepped in quietly, a cup of tea in hand. His face was tight with concern and worry.
"Sir" he said softly, placing the tea on the table. "Wouldn’t it be better to rest for a while? Please. This isn’t worth your health." he said, his voice laced with concern.
Elder Allen looked up, his tired eyes meeting Alfred’s. He gave a small, weary smile but didn’t stop reviewing the documents.
"Jessica was very clear, sir," Alfred added, voice strained. "No stress. Eat healthy and take your medication once every two days. That’s the only way to recover, she said."
"I remember." The old man sighed. "But these matters won’t wait."
He had always remembered her warning and instructions concerning his health and knowing his body very he knew he had exceeded his limit but there are things to put together, things to keep from falling into the wrong hands.
Alfred’s heart clenched. For days now, Elder Allen had grown weaker. He ate little, barely slept, and stayed locked in his study more than ever. His breathing was heavier. He moved slower. There is only one reason for that — Elder Allen’s health had worsened.
Though, Alfred wasn’t a doctor, but he knew that stress and emotional pain were likely making things worse.
Alfred had watched him raise Davis after his son’s and his wife tragic death. And now, with Davis and his own wife missing for months, it was as if life had drained from the old man altogether.
"I’ll rest, but this can’t wait," Elder Allen said with a deep sigh. "Desmond is working hard to convince the board to make him CEO. And we still don’t know if Davis is alive or not."
"Yes, he may try," Alfred replied calmly, "but with the strong relationships you’ve built with most of the board members, he won’t succeed."
The old man gave a faint, humorless chuckle. "Loyalty doesn’t hold in a world where everything’s for sale. Relationships crumble when benefits outweigh history. Desmond might succeed—not by strength, but by deceit. And when he does, the Allen Group will be at the mercy of vultures."
He paused, gazing out the window. His fingers trembled as he sipped his tea.
In the past, he might not have worried himself much. He might have just placed the ball in the court of the board but now, things are different.
People only care more about personal gain than loyalty. And the Allen Group, being a powerful company, had many enemies waiting to bring it down.
"I wish it were that simple," Elder Allen he continued. "But there are too many factors involved. If Desmond takes over, the Allen Group might end up in the hands of rival families and my biggest fear is that the Allen name may be swallowed whole.
Alfred was shocked. "Do you suspect someone?" he asked.
He had been with Elder Allen through everything — the company’s struggles, the death of Elder Allen’s son (Davis’s father), and the years it took to keep things going until Davis came back five years ago. But now, Davis was missing, and his life or death was uncertain.
"I have my suspicions," Elder Allen said, "but I’m not sure yet."
Just then, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught their attention. Alfred walked to the window and looked out.
"Sir, Desmond is back," he said, his tone contemplative of what his purpose of returning at this time of the day might be.
"As expected," Elder Allen muttered, gritting his teeth. "Is he alone?" he asked further.
"Yes, but his countenance seems wrong." He reported truthfully. Elder Allen nodded and a smile on lips as he gathered the documents, placing them in an envelope, and locking them in a hidden safe inside the study.
He returned to his chair, his eyes thoughtful. He picked up the tea and took a slow sip just as Desmond opened the door. The door creaked loudly, and Desmond walked in with cold eyes burning red like a demon from hell.
With long, fast strides, Desmond strode in, tall and furious, eyes blazing with cold fury. His face twisted with rage, like a predator cornered and ready to strike. He walked up to the desk. "Dad, why did you do that? Is that the best choice for this family?" he asked, his voice cold and sharp.
"What are you talking about?" Elder Allen asked, looking him straight in the eyes.
"I’m talking about you stopping the police from declaring Davis dead after searching for three whole months!" Are you just going to keep pretending?"he yelled, his voice few decibels higher.
"If you’re already calling him dead after just three months, then you’re forgetting he was in a coma for four months last year before waking up. Why would this time be different?" Elder Allen replied calmly.
"Dad, it’s not the same. Last year, we knew where he was and got regular updates on his health as we checked on him. But this time, Nothing. No news. No trace we don’t know where he is. No one can find him," Desmond lamented in frustration.
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