Tristin's tragedy

At Tristin's grandma's house, dinner had ended, and Tristin, unaware that Thomas's father had planned an attack against him, was busy clearing the table.

"Let me help," Buhle volunteered.

"Ah… such a good girl. Buhle, why don't you come and live with us?" Grandma suggested, watching Buhle assist Tristin.

Buhle gently pushed her hair behind her left ear and smiled at Grandma. "I can't do that, Grandma, but I will definitely visit you often if that's okay with you," she said, holding plates in her right hand.

Grandma sighed. "If only Tristin could see how good you are, you'd make a wonderful granddaughter-in-law," she said, shaking her head.

Tristin glanced at both of them and shook his head silently.

"Grandma, Tristin is still young. Don't put that kind of pressure on him. Maybe he has a girlfriend at school," Buhle said, thinking; "I might get to know if he has a girlfriend or not if he takes the bait."

Tristin raised his left eyebrow at Buhle. "Is she trying to bait me?" he wondered.

"Tristin, do you have a girlfriend I don't know about?" Grandma asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

Buhle also looked at Tristin with anticipation.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Tristin asked Buhle instead of answering.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Buhle stated clearly.

"Why is that? You're beautiful, from a wealthy family. Men should be running towards you, and those without legs should be crawling toward you," he said with a frown.

"You'd be surprised how fast they run away after finding out I'm the daughter of the president of the Ntuli Group," Buhle said, narrowing her eyes.

"Huh, you don't say," Tristin muttered, heading to the kitchen to clean the dishes. Buhle followed, helping him clean, while Grandma went to the living room to watch TV.

After they finished cleaning, Buhle said goodbye to Grandma, who was reluctant to see her leave but understood it was their first meeting.

"Tristin, can you move your car so I can leave?" Buhle asked, heading to the door.

Tristin, knowing he had parked behind her, followed her outside.

"Your grandma is a wonderful woman. You need to take care of her more," she said to Tristin.

"Thanks, but you don't have to tell me that," he replied, heading to his car and driving out of the yard.

Buhle shook her head and entered her car, thinking; "Tristin is too stubborn. I'll have to go all out to gain his trust." She drove off.

On the way, Buhle connected her phone to the car's Bluetooth and made a call that connected in two rings.

"Have you made contact?" A man's voice came through the car speakers.

"Yes, father, I have met Tristin and his grandmother," Buhle said as she drove.

"How did it go?" the man asked.

"I've successfully gained his grandma's trust and affection, but Tristin is more cautious," Buhle reported.

"Do you think you can win him over?" her father questioned.

"His grandma is sweet and kind. I'm sure through her, I'll be able to win him over," Buhle said, her voice softening with affection for Tristin's grandmother.

Hearing Buhle's change of tone, her father reminded, "Don't get too attached, Buhle. Tristin is a loose end. If we can't bring him into the Argus Web, we will have to eliminate him and his grandmother too. If it comes to that, can you do it?" His voice was cold and deep.

"If it… if it really comes to that, I'll do what I have to do, but I'm not sure how strong Tristin is right now," she said with hesitation. "I've never killed anyone before," she murmured to herself.

Her father, knowing she had never killed before, reassured her, "Killing is the last resort. If we can recruit Tristin, we'll be promoted twice. If he's killed, we'll be promoted once. So try your best to get him to us alive." His voice softened slightly.

"I understand, father. I'll go all out for the sake of the family," Buhle stated, easing a bit.

"For the sake of the family," her father repeated, then hung up.

The next morning, just as Tristin was about to drive to school, he received a call from Sunville.

"Butler Steven, are you looking for me?" Tristin asked, answering the phone.

"Yes, young master. Something has happened, and I thought I should let you know," Butler Steven said on the other line.

"I'm listening," Tristin said, waiting for the news.

Butler Steven didn't waste time. "The truck driver who crashed into your parents' car, resulting in their deaths and almost killing you too, died early this morning," Butler Steven said.

Tristin clenched his right hand hard on the steering wheel, his eyebrows narrowing to the point a vein appeared on his forehead. "How did he die? Wasn't he already in prison, charged for drunk driving and murder?" Tristin asked.

"From the report I received, he committed suicide by using the bedsheets to make a rope and hung himself," Butler Steven explained.

"I see," Tristin said, recalling the night his parents died.

On that fateful night, Tristin and his parents were driving home from a cricket game. The full moon was obscured by dark clouds, and traffic was light on the highway around 11 PM.

"Go AB, go AB, go AB," Tristin's mother sang in the passenger seat, dancing with her hands. She wore an AB de Villiers pink Proteas t-shirt and a white cap, looking vibrant and happy.

"Mom, we're not in the stadium anymore. Aren't you tired? You've been singing all day," Tristin, in the backseat, said with a smile, shaking his head.

"Tristin, let your mother be. We've been too busy at the company these last few months; she deserves some fun time," his father said, taking off his white cap as he drove.

"Yeah, you guys have been too busy. I was afraid I wouldn't spend much time with you before I go to varsity next year," Tristin said, looking down while playing with a cricket ball in his hands.

"Oh, Tristin, you won't even miss us when you're at university. You'll be busy enjoying your freedom and chasing girls," his mother teased with a smile.

"I will definitely mi… Dad, look out!" Tristin screamed, seeing two BMWs racing each other and constantly overtaking as they approached his father's car.

"What kind of first-class idiots race in a two-way tunnel?" his father asked, frowning as he slowed down to allow the other BMW to return to the oncoming lane.

Tristin subconsciously turned his head to look at the two BMWs. "Father, they're coming back. They just made a U-turn," he said, frowning.

Both parents looked back and saw the two BMWs approaching, each taking one lane and moving at the same speed. "Chris, something's not right. Let's get out of this tunnel," Tristin's mother screamed at her husband.

Just as Chris was about to speed up, two construction trucks entered the tunnel, both loaded with concrete and coming at high speed, each on one lane, blocking Tristin's father's car.

At the back, the two BMWs were approaching, and in front, the two trucks were closing in, sandwiching the white Ford Focus.

Chris stopped the car in the middle of the tunnel. "This is a well-orchestrated plan," he sighed, looking at the incoming trucks. "They want to kill all of us."

"We can't let it end here for the four of us. I refuse," Tristin's mother said, tears streaming down as she held her stomach, shaking her head.

"Mom, what do you mean by the four of us?" Tristin shouted, his eyes full of tears as the noise from four engines grew louder and louder.

"Tristin, this is not the time for tears. Your mother is pregnant. You are strong. Use everything Mr. Masombuka taught you. You've been training for seven years. Take your mother and get out of here," his father ordered, his voice firm.

"But Dad, what about you?" Tristin asked, tears falling.

"There's no time for that," his father replied, sighing as he took off his seatbelt, holding his wife's stomach with one hand and Tristin's hand with the other. "You two are the best things that ever happened to me. I'm sorry, young one. You won't even have a chance at life. Live, Tristin, live for all of us."

Tristin's mother, with tears on her face, held her husband's hand on her stomach and Tristin's hand with the other, squeezing gently. "I love you all," she said, her voice breaking as she sobbed.

"Use your qi energy, Tristin," his father screamed, but his scream was cut short by the deafening roar of metal on metal, the screech of tires, the crunch of metal, and the shattering of glass.

As the truck crushed the Ford Focus, Tristin channeled all his qi energy to every acupoint in his body, condensing it and hardening his body as much as he could.

The truck didn't stop, driving the car into the tunnel wall and continuing to crush it while the concrete spilled on top. Seeing that the crash was successful, the two BMWs made a U-turn and left the scene while the other truck continued on its path as if nothing had happened.

"Young master, are you still there?" Butler Steven asked on the other end of the phone.

Hearing no response, Butler Steven repeated, "Young master? Young master?"

Tristin snapped back from the nightmare he was reliving, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face.

"If I hadn't dragged my parents to that cricket game, maybe they'd still be alive," he murmured, tears falling. "And... maybe in a few months, I would have been a big brother to a little sister or brother."

"Young master, don't be hard on yourself. Those who wanted your parents' lives and yours might have found another way if you hadn't gone to the game that day," Butler Steven comforted him, hearing Tristin's sobs over the phone.

Drying his tears with his hand, Tristin asked, "What about the two BMWs and the other truck?"

"Young master, we're still searching, but resources are limited since your uncle has stopped all investigations into that night," Butler Steven said, sighing.

"Thank you, Butler Steven. Be careful; the enemy is ruthless," Tristin warned.

"Thanks, young master," Butler Steven replied.

They exchanged farewells, and Tristin took a deep breath, slapping his cheeks a few times before driving to school.