Chapter 7
Arthur had never feared death the way Marcus believed he did.
Pain, yes.
Helplessness, sometimes.
Leaving unfinished business, absolutely.
But death itself?
No.
Arthur had watched friends die with dignity and others cling to life because someone else was spending their money before they were gone.
He refused to let Marcus turn his final days into a hostage negotiation.
The paramedic who arrived after the officers checked Arthur quickly, keeping movements gentle and practical.
“Sir, stay still. Keep breathing with the cannula.”
Arthur nodded.
Marcus backed toward the Christmas tree, one hand still raised defensively.
His phone remained plugged into nothing now.
The black charging cable lay on the floor like an accusation.
Evelyn opened her leather folder.
Inside were official documents, but no details were shown.
Marcus stared at them.
“You can’t change anything without me.”
Evelyn looked up.
“No one said anything was being changed in this room.”
That frightened him more.
Because final outcomes were not being announced.
They were being prepared.
Arthur turned his head toward his son.
“You came on Christmas Eve.”
Marcus said nothing.
“You didn’t bring a gift.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
Arthur’s eyes moved to the paper on the blanket.
“You brought yourself one.”
The officer nearest Marcus shifted slightly, keeping space between him and the bed.
Marcus looked cornered, though no one had touched him.
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Greed does that when the room stops cooperating.
Read the full story 👉 Arthur understood Marcus did not fear losing his father; he feared losing access to what his father controlled.
