The Tycoon Heir

Chapter 8: Mixed Feelings

Sophia sat in the car, staring blankly through the windshield. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap and quivered. The news that Nathan had survived the gunshot to his head had come like a bolt of lightning. She had seen him bleed, had seen him go down. The chances for his survival should have been nonexistent, yet here he was, alive.

The doctors had said it was a miracle-a grazing of a bullet past vital areas, which had left him with wounds severe but not fatal. Sophia did not believe in miracles. There had to be something else, but what?

Her mother sat beside her, with an unforgiving glare.. The weight of her disappointment weighed upon Sophia like an enormous boulder. There was silence between them for one long, heavy moment but for the quiet ticking of the car clock.

"You failed," she said, cold and forthright; her voice came through like a blade, slicing the stillness into bits. "I told you to handle it, and even that was too much for you."

The words cut into Sophia as if her fingers dug into her palms. "I… I did not expect him to survive," she whispered out, barely louder than a whisper.

Her mother mocked and then shook her head in scorn. "You have always been so weak, Sophia. You've always been second best, second to your brother. Always not quite strong enough to do what's called for. Do you really think this family can afford your incompetence?

A lump rose to her throat, but Sophia swallowed it. She wanted to rise in her defense-to argue she wasn't weak, to argue she wasn't useless-but words wouldn't come. Her mother's gaze just seemed to bore deeper into her, unrelenting and unforgiving.

"Call your father," she ordered flatly.

Sophia's fingers hovered over her phone; she didn't want to speak to him. Her father's voice always seemed to carry an air of authority over her, making her feel small and insignificant. But she had no choice. With shaking hands, she dialed his number.

The line clicked, and his deep voice rumbled through the speaker. "What is it?"

Sophia hesitated, her mouth dry. "Father… it's about Nathan. He… he survived.

There was silence, and she could almost feel the anger seep through the phone. "Survived?" he repeated icily. "How incompetent can you be, Sophia? You've brought shame to this family yet again."

"I-I didn't know he would make it," she stammered, tears threatening to spill. "The doctors said it was impossible, but-

“Enough!” he barked, cutting her off. “You’re pathetic. You’ve always been a failure, just like that damn idiot I called a friend. You’ll never be like your brother. He would have handled this without hesitation, without mistakes.”

The mention of her brother stung. Her father’s favoritism had always been glaringly obvious, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never measure up.

Father, please," she begged, her voice shaking. "Give me another chance. I can fix this. I'll make it right."

There was a long silence, and then he let out a heavy sigh. "You'd better. This is your last chance, Sophia. Do not fail me again."

And with that, the line went dead, leaving her clutching the phone tightly in her hand. Her mother's disapproving glare was still fixed on her.

"Well?" her mother said, arching an eyebrow.

"He… he told me to finish it," Sophia replied faintly.

Her mother nodded, as if that had been the only answer available. "Then you know what you need to do. No more mistakes."

Sophia nodded reluctantly, her mind whirling with thoughts. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small syringe filled with transparent liquid. The substance would paralyze Nathan slowly in three days. It was just the perfect plan: clean, untraceable, foolproof. Nobody would ever suspect her.

She had gotten out of the car; her mother hadn't even looked at her. The hospital was far away as Sophia stood there for some time, staring at it. It was all weighing upon her, and finally, she began to doubt her ability to go through with what she had decided on.

She thought back to her life with Nathan. It wasn't perfect-far from it. He was weak, a disappointment, someone she had been forced to tolerate for the sake of her family. But he had loved her, in his own way. She shook her head, banishing the thought. Love didn't matter. Family loyalty did.

She steeled herself, entered the hospital, her heels lightly clinking against the tiled floor. The corridors were in dim light, their silence oppressive. She clasped the syringe tightly in the fist of her hand while her heart pounded against her chest.

As she neared Nathan's room, she stopped before the door, her fingers hovering over the handle. Her brain seemed to flood with different feelings: fear, guilt, and determination. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

Nathan lay on the bed, his face pale but peaceful. His chest rose and fell steadily, and for a moment, she hesitated. Could she really do this?

As she stepped closer, her resolve hardened. This wasn't about her feelings. This was about her family, about proving herself.

….

Nathan lay on the hospital bed, his mind buzzing from the new system that seemed to have integrated itself into his reality for no apparent reason. The interface hovered faintly in his vision-a puzzle that was determined to be solved. He swiped through menus; fingers twitching minutely as he explored options on abilities, attributes, and strange tasks promising rewards he didn't understand. It was surreal, even a little dreamlike-but the ache in his head firmly reminded him how brutally real all of this was happening.

The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the system and the soft hum of machines that monitored his life functions. He was so deep in his thoughts that it took him a second to catch the soft creak of the door. It was soft, but sufficient to raise his senses on alert.

Someone was in his room.

Nathan's heart quickened, but he made a conscious decision to remain calm. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing down, as if the stillness of sleep had been feigned. The footsteps were light, cautious, almost as if the person was making an effort not to be heard. He could feel a presence drawing nearer, air in the room shifting with the intruder's motions.

Then he heard her voice.

You're so stubborn," Sophia spat. "Even now, you won't die. Why can't you just make this easy for me?"

The words spasmed Nathan's heart with their utterance. He knew her betrayal but, my God, the malice in her voice-what an affirmation of everything. Anger bubbled beneath his surface, his mind racing as he fought to keep up the act of unconsciousness.

A faint rustling followed her words, and Nathan dared to crack his eyes open just slightly. Through his lashes, he saw her standing by his IV drip, a syringe in her hand. The liquid inside glinted faintly in the low light, and he didn't need to guess what it was for.

She moved deliberately, her hand reaching toward the IV line.

His body had acted before his brain kicked in. In one swift move, he leaped from the bed, his hand reaching out to grasp her wrist. The syringe fell to the floor, its shrill noise making them both jump.

Sophia gasped, her eyes wide with shock and fear as Nathan's other hand clamped around her neck.

"You took everything from me!" he growled, his voice low and filled with raw fury.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. First, her face changed to shock, then slowly transformed into panic. Nathan's grip tightened, and he was angry. She struggled, digging her nails into his hand, but he did not let go.