Rowan's icy glare could have frozen hell over. His eyes bore into his son, Oliver, with a ferocity that seemed lethal.

Oliver sat sprawled on the couch, returning the stare with a steely resolve that didn't waver. They sat in opposition, the tension palpable between them, only a coffee table serving as a no man's land. Oliver, with a look colder than Rowan's, seemed almost heartless by comparison.

Rowan let out a scoff, his amusement thinly veiled. "Oliver, your mother's been gone for ages, and you're still holding that grudge against me?"

"Don't you dare speak about my mother! You're not worthy of saying her name!" Oliver shot back, his voice crackling with intensity.

Rowan's smirk grew wider, his plan seemingly coming together. "Your mother always acted so high and mighty, never listening to my advice. She got what she deserved!"

you dare speak

down at Oliver with disdain. "If you're so capable, kill me then.

out and grabbed Rowan by

flung him to the ground. Rubbing his bruised throat, Rowan rasped, "What's the matter? Planning to let me go? Are you not going to avenge your dear mother?" Locking eyes with Oliver, Rowan pulled out a handgun from his pocket and forced it into Oliver's hand, then guided it toward his own chest. "Come on, shoot here! If you've got the guts, do it, Oliver!" Oliver's eyes, seething with hatred, stayed fixed on Rowan. The trigger was moments away

"Oliver!"

Josefina arrived in the nick of time. She rushed to Oliver's side and firmly grabbed his icy hand. "Oliver, put down the gun," she urged,

his plan unravel, stoking his anger even more. He pointed at Josefina, his voice loaded with accusation, "Who the

hand. The bullet

wrapped her

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