Bedridden and frail, Andre Fitzgerald, the patriarch of the Fitzgerald family handed the phone to his caregiver with a shocked look on his face.

The Grand Patriarch is back. Of course not the original patriarch. Unless the patriarch whom they had all known was well skilled in eastern medicine had found a way to make himself younger then he couldn’t be the person that was just described to him.

Who was the man? How had he come in contact with the patriarch?

He knew that was not the issue at the moment. The main issue was that in the history of the sect, his family was the first to achieve what none other had dared. Insulting the Grand Patriarch.

“Matteo,” the man thought in anger “That brat would be the end of this family” he swept his good arm across the table close to him in anger and the contents on the table all crashed to the floor. His medicine bottle made the most thud against the plush carpet.

The caregiver went down on her knees with her face against the carpet. She dared not speak as she held her head firmly against the carpet, praying with everything in her that his anger was not directed at her. The man’s anger was vile but the payment was good. It was not an easy feat to get to work for a Fitzgerald, especially the patriarch.

Andre Fitzgerald looked at the cowering woman in disgust. If it was back in the days he would have instilled some backbone in her. Probably in bed. But not now when he had become half paralyzed from the stroke he had gotten as a complication of the hard fall his spinal cord suffered when the lover of his ex-wife pushed him off the stairs after he caught them together. In his bed.

Andre would never have left his holdings in Matteo’s incapable hands if not for his ailment. Any remembrance of his incapacity frustrated him beyond measure and he took it out on anyone available when the mood struck. Well, as much as he could with one good arm and draggy feet anyway. The more one part of his face drooped, the bitter he got.

When he received a call earlier from his main man regarding what happened at the plantation. He had been furious at what Don did. Don could be a god to most but they had been friends for enough years for Andre not to fear him as much as he used to. Being acknowledged as a friend by Don was a great feat to achieve in Dengal and he had paid his price. Oh, how he had paid them to be accorded that title.

He couldn’t believe that Don would do that.

After dialling the confidential number, he had not said anything yet before Don said “I should have known you would call”

“Of course, you should have. What is this I heard you did, Rafe? You humiliated my son on his day. You humiliated my family. Because of a punk!” Andre was more annoyed with the fact that his words slurred a bit and he had not sounded as assertive as he intended.

Don was a friend but a man like Andre gave no room to any form of weakness. His deteriorating body was a humiliation for him. The fact that Don had taken care of the lover and his ex-wife in a painful drawn-out execution had been of little consequence. He was still bedridden and now his words slurred. How shameful.

“That punk, as you called him is no other person but the Grand Patriarch,” Don said simply.

Chill filled his body and he blinked as he momentarily thought his hearing had decided to follow the suit of his useless limb “Did…did I hear you say the Grand Patriarch? How is that even possible? Jose told me he was a young man” he said even as realization dawned on him.

“Well, not the one you used to know but you know the rule. Don’t you, Andre? He has the No-Holds-Barred Ring with him”

Andre gasped.

“Right, that is the right expression. You could have blown me over with a fan when I saw it. How many years has it been now?” Don sighed “I think what you should be more concerned about right now is that your dear son had him beaten. You know what that means, don’t you?”

Andre could feel his world crumble around him. His silence was enough to answer for Don.

“Yeah, I would have the same reaction if I were you. Your son dared lay his hand on Grand Patriarch, Andre. You know what that meant. I have to go”

Don disconnected the call.

Fury filled Andre for the uselessness of his limbs. For the recklessness of his son.

The contents he knocked off the table did nothing to reduce his anger. He felt like pounding someone yet he could not stand without help. He felt like pounding into someone till all his anger dissipated yet the caregiver was within reach and he could not do anything.

His wrath grew as he couldn’t even use the two ways he had used to ease the anger in the past within reach yet he couldn’t do anything because of his useless limbs.

Matteo chose that moment to burst through the door.

“Father! I will not take this! I will not suffer this injustice. Your Don! Your High and mighty Don was supposed to be the most capable, the man who was supposed to deal with all our enemies without exceptions. He stood there while I got humiliated today. My wedding was ruined!”

Andre grew deadly calm and he said nothing as his son ranted.

Matteo with his askew tie, disheveled look, wine-spattered trousers, and shoes was furious beyond reasoning as he stormed into the room, pacing agitatedly as he addressed his father.

If he had been in his right senses, he might have recognized the sort of calm that was always on Andre’s face before he pounced on anyone be it his employees or family but at the moment, the screams of Sonia as they dragged her away and his impotency as he was held back when he tried to follow them was all Matteo could see as he shouted in his father’s overly large room.

He pictured Jason’s face in his mind and he knew now that nothing else was going to be satisfactory enough for him anymore, not torture or humiliation. Not even a jail term. Jason had to go down for this and he would be the one that pulled the trigger.

He jolted out of his fantasy when he realized that his father had not said anything. He looked over and saw the caregiver with her head against the carpet.

“Get out!” he shouted and the poor woman ran out as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Father, why are you not saying something? Don allowed that idiot to take my fiancée away. They took Sonia away! They humiliated me! Would you say nothing while people make a mockery of me? Of you?”

“An idiot, you say?” Andre asked.

A wiser person would have detected the steel in his slightly slurred word.

Matteo was not a wiser person.

“Yes, it was that peasant that I sent to jail three years ago and he dared to show his face again”

Andre knew there was no going back for his family now “You…you sent him to jail?”

“Yes,” Matteo replied with a cruel smile on his lips “The idiot did not know his place. He was trying to play a knight. Ironic that the woman he was fighting for was the one I was about to marry, isn’t it?” his face changed again “But then he ruined it!”

Andre was more concerned about another type of knight. Los Cabarellos never forget. Not when their leader was wronged. His stupid son might have as well sentenced the whole family.

“Come over, son” Andre said.

Matteo who thought his father was about to discuss their revenge plan with him moved closer to him “This must not be…”

Andre pulled back his good arm in a fist and let loose with every single power in his frail body.

Matteo saw stars as his father’s right fist caught him neatly on his chin. He crashed against the table and landed heavily on the teapot that had been upended earlier.

“Fa…”

“Take this bastard and lock him up in the cellar! Bastard! Bastard!” Andre screamed in agitation at Matteo’s bodyguard that stood just outside the door.

They rushed in and lifted Matteo off the floor. They knew who the real boss was after all.

Father, what is happening? I am the wronged one here. How can you…”

“If I cannot turn your mess around this time, be sure that I would kill you myself!”

“Take him away!” Andre yelled again.

Right before he started coughing.