CHAPTER 35: FRACTURED TRUST

                                    

                                          
The black SUV roared down the desolate highway, its headlights piercing through the inky darkness of the night. The tires hummed steadily against the asphalt, the only sound breaking the otherwise suffocating silence between Charles and Simon. In the passenger seat, Charles leaned back, his mind spinning as he stared blankly at the blur of trees passing by. A storm was raging inside him—fear, anger, confusion—all crashing together like waves in a tempest. His instincts screamed at him to act, to find a way out of this mess, but for the first time in a long while, Charles was truly powerless. The rules had changed, and he was no longer the one pulling the strings.
Next to him, Simon sat rigidly in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his eyes focused on the empty road ahead. There was an unsettling calm about him, a stillness that belied the horrors they had just left behind. Charles stole a glance at Simon's profile—his sharp jawline clenched, his eyes cold and emotionless. Charles could hardly believe it. This was the same man who had mercilessly killed the others, yet spared him. But why?
The question gnawed at him. Simon could have ended it back at the mansion. He could have killed Charles just like he did Dalton, Kenneth, and David. But he hadn’t. That single, unanswered question filled the space between them, an invisible wall that neither had yet acknowledged. But Charles knew he needed answers, and he needed them now. He couldn't spend another moment in this eerie silence, trapped in his own thoughts while Simon drove them toward an uncertain fate.
Charles took a deep breath and finally broke the silence.
"What’s your plan, Simon?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though it quivered slightly with unease. "Why am I still alive?"
Simon’s eyes didn’t leave the road. He remained silent, his expression impassive, as though he hadn’t even heard the question. The quiet stretched on, thick and oppressive. Charles felt his pulse quicken, his heart hammering in his chest. He needed an answer. He needed something to hold onto, some way to make sense of what was happening.
“I mean it, Simon,” Charles pressed, his voice harder this time. “You killed the others. So why am I still here?”
Finally, Simon spoke, his voice low and measured. “You’re not done yet.”
Charles blinked, confused. “What do you mean by that? Not done with what?”
Simon’s jaw tightened, and he let out a slow breath before answering. “There’s still more for you to pay for.”
"Pay for?" Charles repeated, incredulous. "I don't even know what you're talking about! I don't understand any of this. What are you trying to achieve?"
Simon’s silence returned, and for a moment, Charles thought that was the end of it. But then Simon's eyes flicked toward him, cold and piercing.
“You don't get it, do you?” Simon said, his voice quiet but full of venom. “You and the others, you think the world revolves around you. That your wealth, your power, your connections make you untouchable. But it doesn’t. You’ve hurt people—destroyed lives—and now you’re going to understand what that feels like.”
Charles's blood ran cold. He had heard people accuse him of similar things before—disgruntled former employees, failed business partners, people he had outmaneuvered in deals. But this was different. Simon wasn’t speaking out of anger or bitterness. He wasn’t shouting or raging. His voice was calm, unnervingly so, like he was simply stating a fact. And that made it even more terrifying.
“Look,” Charles began, trying to stay composed. “I don’t know what happened with you or why you’re doing this, but killing those men—it won’t change anything. It won’t bring anyone back. And I’m not the person you think I am. I didn’t—”