The Death of Grandfather Timothy

"My father thinks he can just take everything away from me and hand it over to that foolish boy Nathan. He thought wrong. I'll make sure he regrets his decision. Him and his golden brat combined," Darren sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice as he carefully extracted a syringe from a small box.

He held it up to the light, observing the deadly contents within. It was a tool of retribution, a means to exact his revenge upon his father.

"I heard Nathan's moving back to the estate. With his wife Nara," Lillian, Darren's wife, voiced nervously, her eyes darting anxiously between her husband and the syringe.

"Good. We are all family; we should all live together as one," Darren remarked with a menacing grin, his tone dripping with contempt as he returned the syringe to its container.

"Dear... if you do this, there's no going back," Lillian pleaded, her voice trembling. She knew the dangers of Darren's plans and feared the repercussions.

"What did you just say?" Darren growled, his expression darkening as he fixed his intense gaze upon his wife.

"He... is still your father. I just don't want you to do something you'll end up regretting..." Lillian's words trailed off as Darren's hand connected with her cheek in a brutal slap, the force of the blow sending her stumbling backward.

"Are you questioning me now? Huh... Lillian!?" Darren snarled, his voice laced with fury as he roughly grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor.

"No... no... I'm sorry, I—" Lillian's cries were cut short as Darren silenced her with a menacing glare.

"You better not say a word to anyone about this, if not I'll kill you. Understand?"

Lillian nodded fearfully, her heart pounding with terror as she watched Darren storm out of the room, the small container clutched tightly in his hand.

Despite her agreement with his desire to reclaim his rightful place as head of the family, she couldn't shake the dread of his other plans. All she could do was remain silent, lest she suffer the same fate.

******

Darren's footsteps echoed as he made his way to his father's room, his mind consumed with thoughts of vengeance and reclaiming what he believed to be rightfully his.

As he reached the door, Darren's hand clenched into a fist, the knuckles white with determination. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and strode into the room.

His father, Timothy, sat in his chair by the window, his gaze fixed on the sprawling estate grounds below.

Despite his frail appearance, there was a steely resolve in his eyes.

"Father," Darren's voice cut through the silence like a blade, his tone cold and devoid of any warmth or affection.

Timothy turned to face his son, his expression unreadable as he regarded Darren. "Darren," he acknowledged calmly.

"I see you've come to pay me a visit," Grandfather Timothy remarked, his tone laced with a hint of irony. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Darren's lip curled into a disdainful sneer as he advanced into the room. "Save your pleasantries, Father. You know exactly why I'm here," he spat.

Grandfather Timothy remained unfazed, his demeanor regal and composed. "Ah, yes. I suppose you've come to demand what you believe is rightfully yours," he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

"You know damn well that everything you've built belongs to me," Darren growled, his fists clenched at his sides.

Grandfather Timothy's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Is that so? And what is it that you believe is rightfully yours, Darren? Power? Wealth? Status?" he questioned, his voice calm yet tinged with sadness.

"All of it," Darren spat, "This estate, this legacy—it should have been mine from the beginning. But you chose to overlook me, to favor that spineless fool Nathan."

Timothy's expression softened, "Darren, you've always had a place in this family, a role to play. But you chose a path of resentment and bitterness, rather than embracing the opportunities before you."

"Opportunities?" Darren laughed bitterly. "You call being cast aside and replaced by that imbecile an opportunity? No, Father, I call it betrayal."

Grandfather Timothy's gaze hardened once more, his eyes narrowing. "That imbecile is your nephew, Darren, and he possesses qualities that you sorely lack—integrity, loyalty, honor," he declared, his words carrying the weight of authority.

Darren scoffed as he produced the small container from his pocket, brandishing it before his father like a weapon. "This is for everything you've taken from me, for every betrayal and every injustice. This is my vengeance."

Darren's hand trembled slightly as he took out the syringe.

"I'd always known you'd be the death of me," Grandfather Timothy stated sadly, his voice tinged with resignation. "I guess I was right."

Darren's grip tightened around the syringe, his jaw clenched as he struggled to contain the torrent of emotions raging within him. "You brought this upon yourself, Father," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt.

"So be it," Grandfather Timothy said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I accept my fate."

Darren's resolve wavered for a moment, a flicker of doubt creeping into his mind. But then, with a steely determination, he pushed aside his doubts and raised the syringe high.

"This is the end of the road for you. And I'll make sure Nathan suffers the same fate."

With a swift motion, Darren plunged the syringe into his father's arm, injecting the lethal dose with a sense of finality.

As the poison coursed through Grandfather Timothy's veins, a heavy silence descended upon the room, disturbed only by the sound of his labored breathing.