Grass to Grace: Second Chance Wealth

Chapter 3: MY MOTHER DIED?

*Flashback*

In a dark, abandoned house, a little boy sat on the cold floor, his hands bound by a rope and his eyes covered by a blindfold. The air was thick with tension as a group of men loomed over him, their presence instilling a fear so profound that he dared not breathe too loudly.

A lighter flicked open, and the sharp sound of fire ignited the silence. One of the men took a deep drag from his cigarette, the acrid smoke curling into the air. The boy coughed, irritation mixing with fear as the smoke invaded his lungs.

“Hey, there’s a child here,” another man said, snatching the cigarette from the first and extinguishing it underfoot.

“His father should have known his son was missing. We should give him a call now,” one of the men suggested, and the others nodded in agreement.

They dialed a number, and it connected almost immediately.

“Good day, Mr. Wilson,” they greeted, their laughter echoing with a sinister undertone.

“Who is this?” came the voice on the other end, laced with confusion.

“We are the ones who took your son,” the man holding the phone replied, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“Let me warn you. Release my son right now, or I will make your life a living hell,” Mr. Wilson shouted, his voice trembling with anger as he sat on the sofa beside his wife, who was drenched in sweat and fear.

The men erupted into laughter, as if he had just told the funniest joke.

“Honey, don’t make them angrier,” she pleaded, her voice shaking.

“What do you want?” Mr. Wilson asked, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“For the exchange of your son, we want a ransom of ten billion dollars,” they demanded.

“Ten billion dollars? You must be joking!” Mr. Wilson yelled, incredulous.

“Shhh! You have a business worth a hundred billion. Ten billion should be a small price for your child’s life,” the man retorted, his tone mocking.

“I don’t have that amount!” Mr. Wilson protested, refusing to comply.

“Baam!” A gunshot rang out, followed by the terrified scream of little Alex.

Mrs. Wilson burst into tears at the sound of her son’s cry. “Honey, please give them what they want. I can’t bear to watch our son die!” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

“Dad, please help me! Get me out of this awful place!” Alex begged, his voice cracking with fear.

“Did you hear that? The next bullet will be aimed at his head. Are you still unwilling?” the man taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

“I have another son who can take my place when I die. You can keep this one for me,” Mr. Wilson said defiantly before hanging up.

“What the hell? What a freaking psycho! He doesn’t even value his child’s life!” the man shouted angrily.

“We went through all this trouble for nothing,” another man added, frustration evident in his voice.

“Well then, the child will pay for it,” the man said, pointing the gun at Alex’s head.

Feeling the cold metal against his skin, little Alex broke down, tears streaming down his face as he begged for his life.

“Don’t kill him, Matthew!” one of the men suddenly interjected, stepping forward.

“Robin, what are you doing?” Matthew asked, bewildered.

“Killing him is pointless. Just spare him and give him to me,” Robin said gently.

“Are you planning to snitch on me? You want to take him and pocket the ransom?” Matthew asked, confusion etched on his face.

“No, that’s not it. I just feel pity for him. Let me bail him out with twenty thousand dollars so you don’t lose anything,” Robin offered.

“Okay,” Matthew relented, lowering the gun as Alex collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Blame your father for being cruel,” Robin said, casting a sympathetic glance at the boy before leaving.

*End of flashback

“What happened at home after I was kidnapped?” Alex suddenly asked, breaking the silence that hung in the air.

“Are you sure you want to know, young master?” Old man Cole inquired, turning his gaze to Alex, who sat across from him.

“Yes,” Alex replied, determination in his voice.

“Okay, after your kidnapping, Mrs. Wilson died two years later from grief and trauma, believing you were dead,” Old man Cole said, pausing to gauge Alex’s reaction.

“What? My mother died?” Alex asked, tears spilling from his eyes. Despite his anger towards his father, the loss of his mother shattered him.

“Yes, young master,” Old man Cole confirmed, his gaze filled with sorrow. “No matter how hard Mr. Wilson tried to find you, we couldn’t, and we believed you were gone for good. Not until recently.”

“Can I ask you a question? I want you to be honest with me,” Alex said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

“Of course, ask me anything,” Old man Cole replied.

“What is the real reason my father wants me back and is handing over the company’s property? It feels strange; he already has Rowand, his other son,” Alex questioned, suspicion creeping into his tone.

After a deep sigh, Old man Cole explained, “Your brother had an accident that affected his brain, making him mentally unstable. He sometimes acts wild and erratic.”

“Really?” Alex asked, shock evident in his eyes.

“Yes, young master. He has received treatment from the best doctors worldwide, but there has been little to no improvement,” Old man Cole said.

They soon arrived at a large hospital, and Old man Cole stepped out first, opening the door for Alex. A wave of discomfort washed over Alex; for eighteen years, he had been treated like trash. Now, he was thrust back into a world of wealth and privilege.

As they entered the ward where Mr. Wilson lay, Alex was struck by the sight of his father. Pale and frail, Mr. Wilson’s skin resembled that of a ghost, and an oxygen mask covered his face.

“Is that you, Alex?” Mr. Wilson croaked, his voice weak.

Alex didn’t respond; he stood at the door, observing from a distance.

“Mr. Wilson, young master Alex is back home,” Old man Cole announced, standing beside him.

“He is here! Oh, thank God! Alex, can I see you?” Mr. Wilson pleaded, coughing weakly.

Despite his hatred for Mr. Wilson, Alex felt a pang of empathy at the sight of his suffering father. He walked closer, taking his hands in his own.

“Can you fulfill a dying man’s wish?” Mr. Wilson asked, his voice trembling.

“Oh Alex, can you forgive me? I know I have wronged you all these years,” he continued, desperation lacing his words.

“Don’t strain yourself too much,” Alex said gently, stopping him from trying to sit up.

“I have committed a sin and prayed for forgiveness all these years. I think my prayers have been answered as I get to see you after eighteen long years,” Mr. Wilson said, gripping Alex’s hands as if he would vanish at any moment.

“I am here now,” Alex replied, taking a seat beside the bed.

“Before I forget, here are the files that contain all the Wilson assets,” Mr. Wilson said hurriedly, handing over the prepared documents to Alex.

“I told you, old man Cole, before coming here: I don’t want your money,” Alex said, returning the files.

“Please, Alex! Do you wish to return to the gutters where you are a nobody? Take it; it’s rightfully yours,” Mr. Wilson insisted, beginning to cough again.

Hearing this, Alex hesitated. His financial struggles had led to bullying and betrayal in his previous life.

“Should I take it? But accepting it means stepping back into their claws. Yet, I don’t even have a place to spend the night,” he thought, torn between his options.

Seeing Mr. Wilson’s condition worsen, he continued, “I know I have wronged you all these years, and now I am giving you everything I have for us to reconcile. Please take it; it is essential that you sign it now, whenever you are ready.”

This time, Alex didn’t refuse.

“Old man Cole will take you back home,” Mr. Wilson said, relief washing over him.

Alex stood up and left the ward, the documents clutched tightly in his hands. As he exited, a frail-looking old man suddenly appeared more vibrant.

“Mr. Wilson, taking advantage of his love for his parents is wrong,” Old man Cole remarked, observing the transformation.

“Without that, he wouldn’t have agreed to come home,” Mr. Wilson replied, removing the oxygen mask and sitting up comfortably. His illness had been a ruse to bring Alex back.

“Your acting skills were top-notch. I could see your real emotions; you miss him,” Old man Cole said, shaking his head.

“You’re mistaken; I only did that to manipulate him into doing what I want. But he still seems soft. Can he handle the company?” Mr. Wilson questioned, concern creeping into his voice.

“Trust him; he is more than capable,” Old man Cole assured him.

“But throughout our conversation, he never called me ‘father.’ He still hasn’t forgiven me,” Mr. Wilson said, sadness clouding his gaze.

“He will soon. He is just a child who has been betrayed by those he loved and trusted. Though he may act indifferent and cold, he still possesses warmth and love,” Old man Cole replied wisely.

“Okay, spare me the sentimental talk. Just take care of him when he gets home. I know he will be targeted by the rest of the family,” Mr. Wilson instructed.

“Understood, sir. When will you be coming home?”

“When he signs the documents,” Mr. Wilson said firmly.

“Alright, you should go now before he changes his mind,” Mr. Wilson urged.

“Okay, sir,” Old man Cole said, bowing slightly before leaving.

No one knew Mr. Wilson better than him; he maintained an emotionless facade in public while hiding his true feelings inside.

****

In the car

Alex climbed into the car, the documents weighing heavily in his hands. He scrutinized them with a skeptical gaze. The offer was tempting yet fraught with danger. Accepting it would mean diving headfirst into a political game where he was despised and targeted.

As he contemplated his next move, the buzzing sound of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He pulled it from his pocket and froze upon seeing the caller ID. It was Rachel, his ex-wife who had just divorced him. 

“What does she want from me now?” Alex thought, irritation bubbling beneath the surface as he finally answered the call.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice deep and devoid of emotion.

“Where are you?” Rachel inquired, her tone laced with curiosity.