Capítulo 1439: Chapter 685: If You Won’t Do It, Plenty of Others Will! (Part 5)
This was harsher and more ruthless than he had imagined.
Marcus seed to recognize his father for the first ti, disbelief filling his eyes.
Old Elton wearily sat back in his chair, waved his hand as if all his strength had been drained:
“Go… do as I said, to survive… the family must survive.”
Kohl nodded, gave a complicated look at his almost-exploding brother, picked up the satellite phone, and quickly walked out.
The study was left with just the father and son.
Marcus suddenly grabbed the revolver on the table, not pointing it at his father but instead smashing it fiercely into the floor, breaking the expensive oak planks.
“Coward!” he growled at his father, storming out of the study without looking back and slamming the door shut.
Old Elton Breloque sat alone in the vast study, the firelight from the fireplace flickering on his face. He slowly picked up an aged family photo from the desk, his fingers trembling as he caressed it.
Outside the window, in the distant night sky, there seed to be the faint roll of thunder.
But it wasn’t thunder.
It was artillery fire.
He closed his eyes.
“Only those who survive can talk about bravery and cowardice, dals and history are of no use at all.”
To these cunning capitalists,
there is no allegiance except to profit.
No profit…
and you’re the enemy!
“Sir, dinner is ready.”
The old butler John’s voice ca softly from outside the door, as respectful as ever, but unable to completely hide a hint of unease.
Old Elton was abruptly brought back to his senses, dryly responding: “I know, Marcus… let them eat first, I’m not hungry.”
The one he didn’t know how to face the most at that mont was the eldest son who valued honor above all else.
There was silence outside the door for a mont, then John’s voice sounded again with a hint of hesitation: “Sir… we couldn’t find Young Master Marcus. He’s not in his room, and the door to the stable study is locked from the inside.”
A premonition of doom instantly seized Old Elton’s heart,
He leapt up from his chair so fast his vision darkened, stumbled forward to the door, and yanked it open: “What do you an it’s locked?! Which study?!”
“The… the small one at the end of the corridor, where he usually keeps his hunting rifles and trophies.” John was startled by his master’s uncharacteristic behavior.
Old Elton’s heart sank instantly!
He almost mindlessly pushed aside the old butler, dragging his heavy steps, madly rushing toward the small oak study at the end of the corridor, followed by servants who heard the commotion and Kohl who rushed over.
“Marcus! Marcus! Open the door!!” Old Elton pounded on the heavy wooden door, hoarsely shouting.
Inside was deathly silence.
“Break it down! Break it down for !!” he shouted urgently at the two strong ranch security guards who had just arrived, his voice filled with panic.
The security guards exchanged glances, then forcefully ramd the door.
Bam! Bam! After a few hits, the lock broke and the door flew open inward.
Thick, tallic tang of blood hit them imdiately!
The scene before their eyes left everyone thunderstruck, frozen in place.
Marcus Breloque slumped in the armchair by the window, his head tilted to the side. He had dressed in a clean Western shirt, even polishing his boots to a shine, but his right hand hung limp, with fingers loosely clutching the beloved Colt “Python” revolver he had slamd onto his father’s desk.
Half of his head was gone.
Red and white were splattered on the oak paneling behind him and the mounted elk head specin, warm, viscous blood soaked the seat beneath him, dripping onto the carpet, forming an ever-expanding, ghastly dark red stain.
On the windowsill, a page torn from a notebook was pressed down, covered in rough and hurried writing, ink seemingly blurred by several splattered drops of blood.
Old Elton seed to have the strength drained from him, his vision darkened, and he toppled backward, barely caught by Kohl and the butler’s scrambling hands.
“Dad! Dad!” Kohl’s voice was filled with terror.
Old Elton struggled, his gaze fixed intently on the page of the will, his lips quivering, unable to utter a word.
A security guard trembled as he stepped forward, cautiously took down the page, and handed it over.
Old Elton snatched it, his cloudy eyes scanning the handwriting in agony:
[I cannot believe, I cannot believe this is the decision of my family.
Father, the pride, courage, loyalty you taught , are they all lies?
Surrendering to that butcher, that xican mongrel? Betraying our allies, scavenging the corpses of our friends like hyenas to survive?
This is not the Breloque family! This cannot be!
Texas is bleeding, yet we are to shackle her with our own hands?
I would rather die than watch the family banner fall in humiliation.
I would rather die than ever let my child know his father and grandfather were traitors.
Forgive , Father, but I have no choice.
Honor is my life!!!
— Marcus Breloque, a fool who believes Texas will be free even to death!]
Each word was like a sharp knife, rcilessly stabbing into Old Elton’s heart, cruelly twisting.
“Ugh… ah…!!”
A strangled, broken cry ca from his throat, but no tears ca out.
Overwhelming sorrow and regret flooded his aging body. He abruptly pushed away those supporting him, his body lurching uncontrollably forward, collapsing heavily onto the cold floor with a dull thud.
He curled up, clutching his chest with both hands, his face rapidly turning cyanotic, mouth opening wide but barely able to breathe, the heartbreakingly intermittent dry sobs squeezing from deep within his throat, filled with indescribable despair and agony.
“Doctor! Get a doctor!!”
Kohl knelt by his father’s side, cradling his convulsing body, shouting hoarsely at the onlookers, finally breaking down into tears unchecked.
…
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