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!"

Oliver's voice thundered, "Don't you dare speak of

stepped closer, looking down at

control, his eyes reddening with rage as he reached out and grabbed Rowan

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

"Oliver!"

icy hand. "Oliver, put down the gun," she urged, her voice a soothing caress. Her warm gaze met his as she drew closer, gently lowering the

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

at Rowan's hand. The bullet struck

wrapped her arms around Oliver. "Oliver, please, calm down. Don't do anything

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