Chapter 116: First Blood (1)
Duncan Veston and Orson, his ever-loyal executive assistant and confidant, arrived at the Tucker Mansion just as the sun dipped below the horizon. The grand estate loomed before them, its imposing silhouette a fitting prelude to the storm that was about to unfold, which Duncan already was expecting.
They had no interest in sharing a meal with the family—Duncan already knew what awaited him, and there was no appetite for pleasantries.
With quiet resolve, he declined the invitation and instead took refuge in the lounge, the very room where he and Bartolomeu Tucker had engaged in countless tense conversations over the years. Orson, ever at his side, remained watchful.
The heavy silence in the lounge was soon shattered by the measured tap of a cane against the polished marble floor. Bartolomeu entered with the kind of presence that demanded attention.
Followed by Annie and three hulking bodyguards, he exuded authority—tall, broad-shouldered, a man whose physique defied the years marked by the silver streaks in his hair. His sharp, handsome features could still deceive, but the weight of his name alone carried the power of generations.
"Well, well, well," Bartolomeu drawled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The elusive Duncan Veston graces my home at last. What an honor. A shame you skipped dinner—I had quite the guest list.
A few cousins, some in-laws... titans of the business world. Would’ve been an excellent networking opportunity," his voice dripped with sarcasm, each word coated with unspoken menace.
"But given your current state, I now understand why you opt-out of the dinner invitation. Looked like you got yourself into some deep shit," he remarked, eyeing Duncan’s bruised and swollen face, courtesy of Greg’s fists.
Duncan met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "I would’ve come sooner, but I had more pressing matters to handle," he replied smoothly, though his words left much unsaid.
Bartolomeu chuckled, his grip tightening on his cane. "Ah, yes. More pressing matters." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Would that be the miraculous resurrection of your dead wife? The same wife whose return led to my daughter being unceremoniously and cruelly thrown out of your house?"
Duncan’s shoulders stiffened, but he refused to waver. "Yes," he answered firmly. "Given the circumstances, I believed it was best to remove Annie from that situation. I had no knowledge of my wife’s survival. I was deceived just like everyone else."