Here's an enlarged, refined version of your Chapter 4, sticking to the original tone and storyline while enhancing descrip
The night was long and heavy for everyone. The dinner had been a disaster, leaving emotions raw and minds restless. Each person retreated to their own thoughts, replaying the harsh words and bitter truths exchanged.
Mister Jones was no different. Seated in his desk chair, his fingers absently drummed against the armrest as he stared blankly at the wall. He was lost in disbelief, consumed by the aftermath of his decisions and his daughter's reaction.
Soft knocks at the door interrupted his thoughts. Jolted back to reality, he stood and quickly opened the door, his face brightening momentarily—until he saw who it was. The brief flicker of hope and enthusiasm vanished, replaced by a cold, stony expression.
"May I come in, Father?" Elizabeth stood in the doorway, a tray in her hands. It carried a glass of warm water and a few pills.
Mister Jones didn't respond. He simply moved aside, his silence speaking volumes, and sat heavily on the edge of his bed.
Elizabeth stepped in hesitantly. She could feel the weight of his anger, his disappointment, and the unspoken judgment in the room. Still, she pressed on, placing the tray on the nightstand beside him.
"I know you were expecting Maxwell," she began softly, hoping to break the oppressive silence. "But he went to training with his cousin." She tried to sound casual, even lighthearted, but her voice trembled slightly.
Mister Jones didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, deliberately avoiding hers. Elizabeth sighed inwardly, understanding that rebuilding his trust would take more than just a few words.
"Father," she said after a moment, kneeling beside him. "I came here to apologize." Her voice cracked with genuine regret. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did earlier. You're the leader of the Jones Pack, and you know what's best for it."
She paused, searching his face for any sign of softening. When she saw the faintest flicker, she pressed on.
"I know I've been selfish, wanting Ryland to have everything. But he's still young, still immature. I was blind to that because I'm his mother, and I want the best for my children." Her voice grew more pleading as she spoke. "Please, Father, understand me. Everything I've done—it was out of love. I only want my kids to succeed."
Her father's shoulders relaxed slightly, and for the first time that night, he looked at her, albeit briefly. Encouraged, Elizabeth reached for his hands, tears streaming down her face.
"Believe me," she sobbed. "I don't want anything for myself. I don't need anything. I just want you to be okay. Please, Father, don't leave me in this world alone." Her cries grew hysterical, shaking the room with their raw desperation.
Mister Jones, though moved by her display, felt a strange unease settle over him. He pulled her into an embrace, whispering softly to calm her. Yet, deep down, he was faking it all.
Elizabeth, convinced her father had forgiven her, wiped her tears and stood. "Here you go, Father," she said, her voice steadier now. She picked up the glass of water and the pills, handing them to him.
Mister Jones hesitated for a moment before taking the medication. He swallowed them with a deep sip of water, setting the glass back on the tray.
But two minutes later, something was wrong. His vision blurred, sweat poured down his face, and his chest tightened. Panic set in as he struggled to breathe.
"Help…" he rasped, his voice weak and barely audible. His words slurred as his body betrayed him.
Elizabeth sat calmly in a chair across from him, watching his struggle with an eerie smile. She made no move to help. Instead, she chuckled softly, the sound chilling in the quiet room.
"What… what did you do?" he managed to croak, his trembling hand knocking the glass off the nightstand. It shattered on the floor, and a shard of glass nicked Elizabeth's foot, drawing a tiny bead of blood.
At the sight of her own blood, Elizabeth's demeanor shifted. Her smile faded, replaced by cold fury. She stood, towering over her father, her voice trembling with anger and long-suppressed pain.
"Do you see how it feels?" she hissed. "Struggling to breathe, fighting to survive? I've lived like this my entire life." Her voice cracked, and tears rolled down her cheeks, but her anger didn't waver. "You have no idea what it's like to always be second best—to fight so hard for someone's approval, only to be ignored. No matter what I did, it was never enough for you!"
Her fists clenched as she spoke, her voice rising with every word. "You destroyed me, Father. And you ask why I've turned out this way? Your neglect, your indifference—it made me who I am. And today, I'm finishing what you started."
Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper as she leaned closer. "Four years ago, I killed my brother to prove myself. And even that wasn't enough."
Mister Jones's eyes widened in horror, but his strength was fading fast. As he gasped for air, he reached for the small recorder he'd been using to dictate his will. With the last of his strength, he slid it under the bed, hoping it would survive.
Elizabeth, oblivious to his actions, grabbed a pillow from the bed and slammed it onto his face. "You'll die anyway," she muttered through gritted teeth. "So I'm just ending your misery a little early."
Mister Jones struggled feebly, but his strength was no match for hers. Within moments, he was still.
Elizabeth stood back, breathing heavily as she surveyed her work. "You'll look like you're sleeping peacefully," she murmured with a bitter smile.
Quickly, she cleaned the room, erasing every trace of her presence. Once satisfied, she took a long, hot shower, washing away the evidence and calming her nerves.
After dressing, she picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Ryland," she said, her voice cold and steady. "It's time to take care of the second prey."