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Chapter_157
The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows over Dennis as he lay motionless, his body reduced to a shell of its former self. The stench of decay clung to him, his once-powerful frame now withered and frail, a cruel mockery of the man he used to be. His eyes, though still alive, held no spark of the vitality that had once defined him. They were dull, haunted by the memories of the choices he had made—the choices that had led him to this moment.
The door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed in the sterile room. Dennis’ remaining strength stirred at the noise, his heart racing, but he couldn’t move. He could only stare with desperate eyes.
A figure appeared in the doorway, her silhouette cutting through the gloom like a harbinger of doom. Winona stepped into the room, dressed in high-end designer clothes, her white flat shoes gleaming faintly in the low light. The very sight of her sent a shiver down Dennis’ spine, though his paralyzed body betrayed him, leaving him utterly powerless to react.
Winona paused, looking at him with an expression that was a mixture of cold indifference and something darker—something far more sinister. She raised her hand to cover her nose, as if the very presence of Dennis, now a broken man, was too much for her to bear.
“Grandpa,” she said, her voice smooth and sweet, “how are you?”
Dennis wanted to scream, to reach out, to do something, anything, but his body refused to cooperate. His lips trembled, and a pathetic, guttural sound escaped him—nothing more than a weak plea for mercy, though he knew it would fall on deaf ears.
Winona’s eyes narrowed as she observed him, a cruel smile curling at the edges of her lips. “You know, Grandpa,” she began, her tone now teasing, “I’m pregnant. Can you guess who the father is?”
Dennis’ eyes snapped open wider in shock, his heart skipping a beat. The question echoed in his mind, bouncing around like a maddening drumbeat. Who could the father be? He tried to focus, but the terror in his chest clouded his thoughts.
Winona leaned in, watching him closely, savoring the moment. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll never guess it,” she continued, her voice dripping with mockery. “You must think it’s Victor, right? Nope. It’s Robert.”
Dennis blinked, his mind reeling at the revelation. Robert? The same Robert who had been a close associate of the Smith family? The betrayal stung more than he could have imagined, a dagger to his already broken heart.
But Winona wasn’t finished. She straightened, her chin lifted high as she looked down at him, her eyes filled with something unreadable. “Isn’t that interesting? I bet you never saw this coming. After everything you did, all the people you hurt… It’s fitting, don’t you think? That your precious family, the one you thought would always be there to protect you, has crumbled. And now, you’re left alone, paralyzed, unable to do anything about it.”
Dennis’ breath hitched. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, but still, his body betrayed him, refusing to move. His mind screamed, How could this be happening? How had it all gone so wrong?
“Everything you’ve done,” Winona continued, her voice lowering to a more menacing tone, “all the lives you’ve destroyed, all the people you’ve trampled on… It’s all catching up to you now. And this? This is your fate. There’s no escape for you. Not anymore.”
Dennis tried to focus, his mind desperate for clarity, but the weight of her words crushed him. He had been so certain of his superiority, so confident that nothing could ever bring him down. But now? Now he was nothing. A broken man, a shattered legacy.
Winona took a step back, her expression hardening. She looked down at him one last time, her lips curling into a smile that held no warmth—only cold satisfaction. “You were right about one thing, Grandpa. You were always clever. But now… you’re just a lesson. A warning to anyone who thinks they can play god.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving Dennis alone in his misery.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed felt suffocating. Dennis’ mind spun as he processed everything that had just happened—the years of manipulation, the betrayal, the lies. He had thought himself invincible, but in the end, it had all come crumbling down.
His eyes flickered, but he couldn’t stop the tears that welled up, though they remained trapped behind his paralyzed face. The once-mighty head of the Smith family was now nothing more than a shadow, a ghost of his former self, trapped in a prison of his own making.
As the days passed, Dennis’ condition worsened. His body, once strong and commanding, deteriorated further. He was left alone in his sterile hospital room, haunted by the memories of the lives he had ruined. But worst of all, he was tormented by the constant realization that his downfall had come not at the hands of enemies or rivals, but from within his own family.
The Smith family, which had once ruled Seacrity’s business world, was no more. The empire he had built had crumbled into dust, and all that was left of his legacy were the wreckage of his actions.
