Frederick Mortcombe woke up a couple of hours later and found himself to be in the hospital bed, connected to a machine and drips.
He swiftly sat upright and forcefully pulled the wires and needle off his body, causing the machine to beep annoyingly in the background.
Alerted by the sound, his men came barging in from the other side of the sliding door and sighed in relief the moment they saw him. Whereas the old Head Butler, who had been sitting on the couch going through his work phone, rushed to the now-orphaned villain's side.
"Young Master!! You need to rest, Sir!" pleaded Gerard, trying to pin him back to the bed.
"Ridiculous! So much time had been wasted, so little is known and you want me to rest?" Frederick shoved the Head Butler while struggling to stand up from the bed.
"Please, Young Master. Pearson is already on the job and I promised the Madam to prioritise your health. Allow me to—"
"Now's not the time, Gerard! We need to show them who's in power and we need to prove it now!" said Frederick adamantly, about to storm out of the room to go back home.
Gerard, taken aback by his truthful words, immediately fall back and nodded his head in agreement, even though his wrinkly eyes were filled with sadness.
"You're right, Sir," Gerard spoke with a lump the size of a strawberry in his throat, changing his stance while acknowledging the well-deserved elevated status Frederick now carried.
"Currently, Pearson's team is tracking down the number who sent a mass message last night while Elise's team is checking the Master and Madam's activity all the way to six months back."
Frederick's eyebrow arched as he recalled not receiving any message last night at all. "What do you mean mass message?" He asked but Gerard had already given his phone to the young master.
[The Mortcombe has fallen. Within 24 hours, swear your allegiance or surrender to death.] The message read.
"Huh! THIS is what you all received?" His hazel eyes scanned everyone in the room, who all confirmed as they flashed their phone monitor to the villain.
Frederick Mortcombe walked back to the bed for a seat, and goes through the inbox for any clues before asking, "Is there any message besides this? Did they specify who this 'allegiance' to be?"
But this time the room fell silent, except for the sounds of shoes fidgeting on the floor. "Spit it out, will you? I don't have the patience for your guessing games nor your pity!"
"We did not receive anymore, Sir," answered Gerard forlornly while the rest of his men hung their heads low.
"Bullshit! I'm not stupid! Just out with it before I'll force them out of you!" Frederick did not buy their white lie. He did not want any pity nor did he want any information being withheld when he could catch the mastermind.
One of the men - the driver that sent him home last night, spoke in his deep but nervous voice, "Sir Rafael received a follow-up message right after the one we had."
"And?" Frederick growled with impatience as his piercing gaze threatened in anger if the man was to speak any slower.
"I don't know the details. All I know is Sir Rafael asked if the Master and Madam were at home. When I said yes, he told me to go back to the House. He sounded urgent too," the man whose hair boasted a nice perm, answered to his best recollection.
"Then?? Surely there's more to that, Shawn??"
"Y-y-yes, right away, Sir! When Sir Rafael knew no one else was home, he told me to call Gerard to come home quick and for me to guard the door while he ran inside. That's about it." The driver smiled at the end of his conversation, feeling proud to be able to contribute.
Sensing so, Frederick thanked the man and put his whole attention on the old man. He had his hands stretched on his thighs, throwing in the accusatory look with pursed lips and asked, "So... We have come to this, Gerard. I've been meaning to ask. WHY is there no one at home?"
"The Madam asked us to go—"
"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?" Frederick cocked his head to one side, giving the most uncomfortable suspicious stare on Gerard while putting on the authoritative aura around him.
"She dismissed us all, Sir. You can ask the rest of the—"
"Sure. I KNOW I can ask. I WILL ask. But have you never stopped to think how odd her request is?"
Frederick had to be suspicious. The fact that his parents were murdered in their own house, and conveniently there was no staff around was suspicious as frozen hell. It HAD to be an inside job. A traitor.
But who would dare to pick a fight with them? When they are by far superior in terms of skill. Be it physical or mental.
"M-m-madam said th-they were going to go... w- Apologies for my rudeness but -wild-," one of the men bravely sacrifice himself to say what they all wanted to say as his face turned beet red whispering the last word.
"What did you say? They were going to go where?" Frederick pricked his ears with his hand curved around them for better hearing as he tilted his body forward.
"Wild," whispered the man once again, which only make the villain frustrated and angry.
Frederick took the pillow and threw it in the man's direction as he furiously shouted, "Damn it! Why is it so hard for you all to fucking talk?"
The man staggered backwards when Frederick aimed perfectly on his head who quickly gathered himself together.
He then stomped his feet on the ground and speak louder with his chest puffed up, "Wild, Sir! Madam said she and Master wanted to have a fun time going wild alone in the house, Sir!"