The collision erupted with a deafening roar, the kind that could wake the dead. Yet, it took place in the middle of the night on an empty highway.
To make matters worse, the impact sent the car spinning violently, hurling it against the guardrail and perilously close to the edge of the cliff.
Afterwards, a quarter of an hour passed in an agonizing silence.
And then, a sports car roared past, approaching the accident scene. It screeched to a halt when the driver caught sight of the grotesque scene before him.
Two young men from the Prescott family, their dark hair a stark contrast against the pale moonlight, tumbled out of the sports car. The older of the two, Daniel, with eyes the color of a stormy sea, quickly gave his younger brother some instructions.
"Brandon, call the nearest hospital. Take a look at the truck driver."
"Daniel, be careful!" Brandon shouted at his elder brother's back as the latter rushed toward the wrecked car.
Sitting in the driver's seat was Whittaker, whose head lay slumped against the airbag. His hands hung limply at his sides, lifeless.
He initially thought that Whittaker was driving on his own, but then he saw a bruised hand peek out from the backseat. A thin trail of blood ran down the pale, white skin in an ominous manner.
A wave of icy dread washed over him as he saw a motionless figure lying limp on the floor of the car.
"Brandon! Is the ambulance coming soon???" he hollered at his younger brother, who responded by raising his voice on the phone.
"We have casualties here, please send help as soon as possible!"
Once he ended the call, Brandon ran toward Daniel.
"The truck driver is fine. He is only unconscious. How is it over here? Ow…"
Brandon wrinkled his face at the sight of carnage inside the vehicle.
"The driver is unconscious. Take him out first," Daniel said. "I am going to take care of the other one."
"Okay, be careful…"
Gingerly, with a soft whimper, the wounded Izabella at the backseat stirred.
"Hel…p," Izabella begged, her voice broken from excessive pain. She felt battered and bruised, as if she'd been pummeled from head to toe.
"Hold on," Daniel said as he pushed the front seats apart.
The girl was not in a good shape at all. She was bleeding profusely from various cut wounds on her limbs, and one of her legs was twisted in an unnatural manner.
When Daniel took a deep breath from exertion, the acrid scent of gasoline stung his nostrils.
"Fuel leak," he commented.
"Oh, crap."
The two brothers began tearing away at the car.
They needed to remove the two people as soon as possible before something worse happened.
Izabella let out another pained whimper when Daniel attempted to free her.
"I don't want to die," she whispered, tears running down her blood-smeared cheeks. "Please…"
"You are not going to die," Daniel insisted. "Help is on the way. Come on, we need to get you out of this car."
Once Izabella was freed from her constraints, Daniel carefully lifted her body into his arms.
The two young men barely made it when smoke began to rise and the car burst into flames.
"Whew," Brandon wiped beads of cold sweat off his forehead as they watched the burning car from afar.
"Now that was a close call. This is a story worthy of passing onto my grandchildren, for sure."
"You can always write it down and make your children speak of your heroic actions during Christmas," Daniel said with a chuckle.
"Hey, that's not necessarily a bad idea."
Daniel shook his head in disbelief. Brandon was actually considering it.
Izabella was lying by the side of the road, trembling violently. Daniel took off his jacket and draped it around her form. They had a fluffy blanket stashed somewhere in the trunk, but they regretfully lost it during their last outdoor picnic.
"Is she awake?" Brandon mumbled.
"She was."
"Hey, can you tell us your name?" Brandon asked, but Izabella remained silent, her eyes squeezed shut tightly.
"I think she's out cold now." Brandon shrugged.
But Daniel held up a hand, his brows furrowed in focus.
"Sssh. Listen."
Curious, Brandon leaned closer to Izabella.
"...za…"
Both young men strained their ears intently.
"...bella…"
That was all Izabella managed to say before she passed out.
"Bella?"
Brandon and Daniel looked at each other.
"Yeah, she said Bella."
The siren of an approaching ambulance broke the silence of the night.
Since they were no family members of the casualties, Daniel and Brandon stayed behind at the accident scene to answer some questions from police officers.
After almost an hour, the police officer who interviewed them concluded the questioning and said, "Alright, young men, you two are free to go. Thank you for your active cooperation in this case."
"Thank you, Officer," Brandon said in reply, relieved that they could finally go home. His elder brother, on the other hand, was not easily appeased.
"Officer, there was fuel leakage from the car. This might not be a mere accident."
The police officer in question almost rolled his eyes in disgruntlement.
What's with young people these days? Did they all think that they had what it took to be police detectives?
"Maybe yes, maybe no. We shall conduct a proper investigation and gather all necessary information from the scene."
Daniel offered a single nod in response.
"In that case, I wish for a swift resolution to the case."
The police officer tipped the edge of his hat, flashed the two young men a smile, and left.
His colleague, who had just finished speaking to an EMT, joined him as they walked towards their car.
"Handsome lads," he commented. "Weird, I have a feeling that I saw them before. I just don't know when and where."
The first police officer furrowed his brows in bewilderment.
"You know what? I also think that way. Isn't that weird?"
"Huh? How odd. Don't tell me that they feature in some wanted posters…"
"Nahhh… it can't be," the first police officer laughed nervously. "They look like two nice, well-mannered young men to me. A little bit of a wise-ass, but otherwise quite tolerable."
"Right, right…"
The second police officer hummed to himself for a while before asking again, "By the way, you did take their names and address, right?"
"Yes, of course!"
The first police officer pulled out his notepad and read out loud, "Daniel and Brandon Prescott."
They exchanged a round of unknown glances before the second police officer slowly mouthed, "Prescott."
"Prescott," his colleague agreed, his face gradually turning pale.
"Prescott!!!" they both cried out in unison a split second later.
Their reaction was unsurprising. The Prescotts, after all, essentially ruled Hillsbrook City. One of the oldest and most influential families in the upper society, their lineage extended back to the pre-war era.
The wealth they accumulated over generations was enough to feed the entire city for a decade at least.
The Prescott family's empire stretched across various sectors, boasting a private island, two private harbors, three TV stations, four museums, five resort hotels, six branches of supermarkets, seven manufacturing plants, and eighteen plantations.
There was even some talk about expanding their business overseas!
Their offspring, accustomed to a life of privilege, maintained close ties with royalty. They were invariably surrounded by a retinue of bodyguards and impeccably dressed in the latest haute couture. It was rumored that the small handbag casually swung by the youngest granddaughter could easily purchase a farm truck.
Naturally, not every Prescott descendant enjoyed the same level of wealth. While the family produced a substantial number of offspring, the patriarchal inheritance system dictated that only the eldest son of the eldest son inherited the majority of the family fortune. The remaining descendants, though not destitute, received a modest inheritance sufficient for comfortable living.
Once the ladies were married off, they effectively ceased drawing funds from the Prescott family and had to depend on their husbands or themselves to sustain their glamorous lifestyle.
That being said, the Prescott family's social prominence induced both fear and admiration in everyone.
Running into one, let alone two people from the Prescott family usually meant one of two things – curse or blessing.
They wielded the power to both elevate and destroy the lesser creatures on earth.
Their influence in the society was sufficient to send people towards unimaginable heights or plunge them into utter ruin.
Of the many people who willingly or unwillingly stepped into their paths, how many people belonged to the former group and how many the latter?
The two police officers swallowed hard before they broke into a round of nervous laughter.
"Hahaha…"
"Maybe we just encountered two poor Prescotts."
"Right, right, maybe they are just extended relatives of the main branch of the Prescott family."
"Otherwise, why would they go without bodyguards?"
"Exactly!"
The two police officers went on their merry way, unaware that they were sorely mistaken.
When Daniel and Brandon arrived at their destination late at night, they were greeted by an ensemble of concerned house staff.
"Young Master Daniel, Young Master Brandon!" the ranch caretaker, Mr. Bennett, cried out in distress. "Where have you been? And what's with all that blood???"
Both young men looked down on themselves to find their clothes soiled with blood.
"Oh, this. It's nothing big. There was an accident, and we helped out a little bit," Brandon explained.
The word "accident" was enough to make everyone suck sharply after air.
"Accident??? Young Masters, are you hurt anywhere???"
Mr. Bennett spun them around, searching frantically for open wounds, but found none. Given the amount of blood, it seemed impossible that the two young men could appear so unscathed.
Laughing, Daniel wriggled out of Mr. Bennett's grip.
"I told you that we helped out. We weren't involved in the accident at all."
Mr. Bennett put a hand against his chest and sighed out of relief.
"Thank God," he murmured. Lord knew what Mr. Carson Prescott was going to do to him if his two sons had so much as a scratch on their unblemished skin.
For Mr. Bennett, as long as his employer's sons arrived at the ranch unscathed, everything was acceptable.
Until of course Daniel came up with another instruction.
"I need you to look into the highway accident that happened tonight immediately," he said. "Coincidentally, the truck that was hit was owned by one of our cargo companies. We need to address the situation before the press gets wind of it."