King of War's Dominance

Chapter 240

At the Hospital....

Celam stood in the VIP hospital waiting room with his hand still bandaged, his face pale from the trauma. He had just finished reporting to Henry about his failure to kill Thom.

Not only had he failed, but he had also been humiliated. Thom had not only avoided the car crash, but had also broken his wrist with a single subtle movement that was almost invisible.

Henry listened to the report with a face that grew redder and redder. His hands clenched, his nails nearly piercing the skin of his palms. He wanted to shout at Celam, to curse him as a useless hitman. But he held himself back.

Celam also delivered Thom’s message. A message that made the hairs on the back of Henry’s neck stand up.

"Thom said he will come tonight. To visit Theon."

Henry fell silent. His eyes stared blankly at the spotless white hospital wall. He didn’t know how to respond. For decades as a business tycoon, he had been used to being the one who threatened others, not the one being threatened. But tonight, for the first time, Henry felt powerless.

The police could not be relied on. The generals refused to help. The media was too afraid to report it. Even the expensive hitman he had hired had completely failed. No one was on his side. No one could help him. He was alone, facing a man whose name even high-ranking officials were afraid to mention.

Henry entered Theon’s hospital room. His son had regained consciousness a few hours ago.

Theon lay on the bed, his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, occasionally letting out a soft groan as the pain in his mouth stabbed through him. His entire face was still swollen, his lips were cracked, and his mouth was heavily bandaged. He couldn’t speak at all. He couldn’t even swallow his saliva properly. He could only move his eyes to show emotion.

Henry sat on the chair beside the bed, reaching for Theon’s cold hand.

"Calm down, son," he said, his voice trying to stay firm even though his heart trembled. "Thom won’t be able to come here. This hospital is heavily guarded. I’ve already ordered Baron to double the security personnel. No one will dare to enter."

Theon looked at his father with eyes full of fear. He didn’t believe him. He had already seen what Thom was capable of.

The door opened.

Slowly. Without a knock. Without warning.

Henry turned.

Theon turned as fast as he could despite the pain in his neck.

Celam, who was standing near the door, staggered back until his back hit the wall.

Thom stood at the doorway.

He wore a long-sleeved white shirt with the collar open, no tie. Neat black trousers. Polished dress shoes. In his left hand, a woven basket filled with fresh fruit. Red grapes, green apples, large oranges, and several pears still glistening with moisture.

No weapon. No bodyguards. No visible threat. But his presence alone was enough to make the room feel ten times colder.

"I’m here," Thom said, his voice calm.

Henry stood up from his chair reflexively, startled in a way he couldn’t control. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Thom walked in. He passed Henry, who stood frozen beside the bed, passed Celam, who was trying to shrink into the corner of the room, and stopped beside the small bedside table next to Theon’s bed.

He placed the fruit basket on the table. Slowly. Carefully. As if he had truly come to visit a patient.

Thom looked at Theon lying there helplessly, his face swollen, his mouth bandaged, his eyes red from holding back tears. In those eyes, there was no longer any arrogance like at the inauguration event. No more crooked, confident smile. What remained was only fear.

"Looks like you’re not doing too well," Thom said, standing beside the bed with his hands in his pockets. "This hospital is nice.”

Theon groaned. His hand resting on the blanket trembled violently.

Henry gathered his courage to ask, "What are you doing here?"

Thom turned, looking at Henry with flat eyes. "Visiting your son. I didn’t feel like waiting for an invitation. So I came on my own."

Thom spoke again, "You sent a hitman after me, Mr. Henry. Celam, was it. Fairly quick, but poorly trained. The car wasn’t good enough for a hit-and-run either."

Henry fell silent. His face turned pale.

"I’m not angry," Thom continued.

He walked toward Henry, stopping right in front of the old man. The distance between them was only a single step.

"Now I’ll give you a warning.” Thom’s voice dropped, becoming a whisper sharper than a shout. "Don’t try it again. Because next time, I won’t come bearing fruit—but a coffin for you."