In the study of Greystone Manor, Jackson sat alone on the sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring vacantly ahead. The room was dimly lit, with only the flames in the fireplace dancing and casting wavering shadows. His mind kept replaying Ethan's words and the cold, determined look in his eyes.
"Betrayal," he murmured, his voice filled with pain and anger. "Ethan, you betrayed me."
He drained his glass of whiskey, the burning sensation of the alcohol calming him slightly, but his mind was still filled with emotions he couldn't release. Sarah's death, Allison's revenge, Ethan's betrayal, it was all like an invisible web that wrapped around him so tightly he couldn't breathe.
"You think that's going to break me?" he sneered. He sneered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You're so naive."
He stood up, walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, took out a pistol, and gently stroked the cold metal surface. He knew that the game had entered a new phase, and he had to take action.
Just then, the door to the study was gently pushed open, and old Jackson came in. His eyes fell on the gun in his son's hand and he frowned slightly. "Jackson, what are you doing?"
Jackson turned his head, his eyes filled with anger and pain. "Father, Ethan betrayed us. He's on Allison's side, trying to expose our secret."
Jackson Sr.'s expression turned cold and his voice held a hint of warning. "Is that how you handle things? Pick up a gun and solve everything?"
Jackson sneered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Or what? Father, do you think we can still hide behind money and power like we used to? Allison already knows too much, and Ethan ... he is no longer our friend."
Old Jackson was silent for a moment, and finally sighed, with a note of helplessness in his voice. "Jackson, you are too impulsive. It's only going to make things worse."
Jackson's expression became more furious on Friday, his voice filled with anger and disappointment. "Make it worse? Father, do you think we have a choice? Alison and Ethan are against us, and we have to do something."
Old Jackson looked at him with mixed emotions in his eyes. "Maybe. But remember, violence is not the only solution."
Jackson didn't respond, just silently put the pistol back in the drawer, his mind filled with mixed emotions. He knew that his father's words were not without merit, but he couldn't deny that the anger and hatred in his heart had become overwhelming.
"Father," he whispered, a note of exhaustion in his voice. "I don't know what to do."
Jackson Sr. took a few steps closer and patted him on the shoulder, his voice soft. "Jackson, you have to calm down. We still have time, we still have a chance."
Jackson was silent for a few moments, but finally nodded, a note of cold determination in his voice. "All right, Father. I'll calm down. But remember, this game has just begun."
Without another word, Jackson Sr. left the study in silence, leaving Jackson standing there alone, his mind filled with mixed emotions.
He knew that the flame of revenge had been ignited, and he had to face the next storm.