Marcus was seated on a black leather sofa, his upper body bare, his muscular form on full display. His clothing lay nearby.
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
Harlan’s eyes narrowed as he examined Marcus’ wounded arm.
“Your injury is more severe than I anticipated.”
He had been dispatched by Victor to assess Marcus’ condition.
๊งเผโฌ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐๐ธ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต๐ผ.๐๐ธ๐ถโฌเผ๊ง
“It’s been poisoned by Bloody Herb,” he continued, sitting opposite Marcus, hands resting on his knees.
“We haven’t yet developed a treatment. You’ll have to endure it for now. You may need to remain on Raven Island for a while. You’re well aware of the complexity of Bloody Herb.”
Marcus remained silent as Derek approached to dress the wound. The festering injury and surrounding skin were a gruesome sight. Derek’s face betrayed his revulsion as he bandaged the wound with the utmost care.
Harlan filled a glass with brandy and took a measured sip.
“I’m surprised that Bruce would inflict such cruelty on you,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.
“I remember how kind you were to him. During our training on Raven Island, he nearly fell off a cliff. You were the one who reached out without hesitation, saving his life. How could he harm the one who saved him?”
Marcus inhaled deeply, his face betraying his exhaustion.
“I had a feeling about this,” he admitted.
These past days, sleep had eluded him. Before going to bed with Millie, he would take great care to conceal his injury from her. Even during their more intimate moments, he would keep a shirt on. A memory surfaced of his youth, a time when he excelled in all his school subjects while Bruce had faltered in one.
That day, his grandmother had showered him with praise and rewarded him with a model airplane. As he was about to give it to Bruce, Marcus noticed Bruce’s grip on the chair’s armrest, so tight that his fingers turned red.
His eyes had been filled with a resentful determination.
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Over the years, Bruce’s nonchalant demeanor had hidden a deep unwillingness to be overshadowed by Marcus. Bruce’s father, Jonah, was similarly deceptive, concealing his own ambitions.
Although Jonah appeared indifferent to wealth and success, he harbored ambitious plans to take control of the Thomas Group.
Once his wound was dressed, Marcus donned a black shirt, vest, and overcoat, then stepped out onto the balcony. Rain was falling, and Derek hurried after him, umbrella in hand.
As Marcus’ gaze was drawn to the rain, lost in thought, Harlan joined him, declaring, “Since he’s intent on killing you, you should act first and kill him. He deserves it.”
In Harlan’s mind, Marcus ought to kill Bruce. After all, in his opinion,
Bruce had it coming.
“If you can’t do it, I’ll handle it.”
Marcus’ voice, chill as the rain, replied, “There’s no rush. He’s concealed his true strength for years. Killing him won’t be simple. What’s crucial now is treating my injury.”
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