"Anyways, back to you, son," she said, her voice trying to steer the conversation back to something lighter, though Zanier seemed barely present.
His thoughts were elsewhere, still tethered to Bae's sudden reappearance and the potential unraveling of his lies about the divorce.
Zanier stood abruptly, the creak of the chair breaking the room's silence. His phone buzzed in his pocket, reminding him of the world beyond this suffocating conversation.
"I have other business to attend to," he said curtly, brushing off the tension that clung to the air.
Elaine watched him, her eyes following his every move, but she said nothing. There was no point.
He had already distanced himself from this conversation, from her, from everything that wasn't tied to his agenda.
"I'll check on you when I can," Zanier added as he made his way toward the door, his voice flat, devoid of warmth or sincerity.
As Zanier walked down the dimly lit hallway, the cold marble floors echoed faintly with each step. The air was thick with tension, a chill lingering as if the very walls were aware of the looming confrontation.
Just ahead, Brag appeared, striding toward their grandmother's room with a deliberate calm.
Their eyes locked, and the energy between them shifted, like the crackling of a storm about to break.
"Stay away from my son," Zanier's voice dropped low, menacing, each word laced with a sinister threat. "If you cherish your worthless life."
Brag halted, his expression unmoved by the warning. He turned to face Zanier fully, his eyes narrowing with the faintest trace of contempt.
"Bold of you to assume I'm after your son," he responded, his voice dripping with equal coldness, though beneath his calm facade, the seething frustration simmered.
Zanier, ever unflinching, smirked at him. "The fact you're after me says a lot, Brag."
The two men stood inches apart now, their glares like sharpened blades, the hallway itself seeming to hold its breath. The air thickened, the tension palpable, neither willing to back down.
Brag's lips curled into a slight sneer, his eyes darkening as he stared back into Zanier's cold, calculating gaze. He had underestimated this man before, but not again.
"After you?" Brag said, his voice cool as he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze never softening. "But not for too long."
Zanier's smirk deepened, a subtle challenge in his eyes as they exchanged one last, tense look before continuing their separate paths.
As Zanier walked away, his demeanor remained unchanged—cold, indifferent, and unreadable, as if the encounter hadn't rattled him in the slightest.
Brag, however, felt the anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior. His gaze turned ice-cold as he continued down the hallway, fists clenching at the memory of past failures—failures Zanier had survived.
Five years ago, the car explosion should have finished him, should have ended this feud. But Zanier had outmaneuvered him again, like a ghost slipping through Brag's grasp.
"Though I didn't lose, tying with him was infuriating," Brag thought, the bitter taste of frustration settling on his tongue.
His lips twitched into a twisted smile as memories of that day replayed in his mind—the explosion, the fire, and Frankford's death.
The plan had gone up in flames, just as he had wanted. But Zanier had walked away, unscathed.
"Not for too long," Brag whispered to himself, the hallway stretching endlessly ahead as if reflecting the unresolved battle between the two men. His gaze darkened further, plotting his next move.