"Wha—" The word was barely a breath, a whisper of confusion, before his knees buckled beneath him. The fortress of his body, long impervious to the stress that would have crumbled lesser men, betrayed him without warning. The ground rushed up to meet him, but it never came.
"Dad…." William's voice sliced through the encroaching darkness, laced with a fear that rarely touched the young lawyer's composed demeanor. He lunged forward from where he'd been standing, a silent sentinel during his father's call. His arms, honed by years of carrying the weight of his own ambitions, now caught the falling patriarch with practiced ease.
The shock of the impact jarred Mr. Greg back to a hazy awareness, just as the support of his son's grip steadied him from a complete descent into unconsciousness. William's presence was a lifeline, the only thing anchoring him in the spinning chaos. But even as he clung to it, the black veil descended once more, and Mr. Greg surrendered to the void, his world fading to nothing as he slumped into his son's arms.
Panic etched deep lines into Mrs. Greg's normally composed features as she witnessed her husband's collapse, her hands fluttering helplessly by her sides like captive birds desperate for flight. "Please," she gasped, the single word a plea laced with terror, "don't scare me."
William's brow creased in alarm, his voice hitching with an urgency that betrayed his inner turmoil. "Dad, what happened?" His eyes scanned his father's pallid face for any sign of consciousness, any flicker of recognition that could explain the sudden turn of events.
William's fingers trembled as they closed around the sleek surface of his father's phone, which had skittered across the hardwood floor in the chaos. Lifting it with deliberate care, he thumbed the speaker button, the room filling with the tinny echo of the manager's voice.
"Mr. Greg, I'm afraid it's as bad as we feared," the manager's strained tone spilled out, each word heavy with dread. "In the factory there's been an investigation. Some sort of tipoff about irregularities."
A cold knot formed in William's stomach, his legal mind already racing through the implications. The manager continued, relentless. "And the customers, sir, they're in an uproar. They're demanding refunds for the entire order. Not just that they're seeking triple the compensation for their supposed losses."
The words hung in the air like a guillotine blade poised to fall. William's grip on the phone tightened, the reality of their situation settling into his bones like the first chill of winter.
The room swirled with the thick tension of impending doom. William's mother, Mrs. Greg stood motionless, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her hands, once steady and sure as she managed their household affairs, now shook like autumn leaves in a gale. With each revelation from the manager's disembodied voice, the color drained further from her cheeks.
"Triple compensation..." Her whisper barely carried across the space, yet it struck with the force of a hammer. "This time, our family is over." The words seemed to crumble from her lips, leaving behind the bitter taste of finality.
William felt a hollow pit open up inside him, its edges sharp with the jagged reality of their predicament. His mother's gaze locked onto his, a silent plea for salvation within their depths.
"William, do you have any friend who—" She couldn't finish, the question too heavy, too fraught with desperation. Her voice fractured, a crystal vase shattering against the unforgiving marble of their circumstances.
He wanted to reassure her, to wrap her in promises that he could fix this. But the truth lay bare before them, stark and unyielding, and Kendrick found no solace to offer.
William's mother's voice trailed off into a hopeless silence, her question hanging in the air like a guillotine poised to fall. Her eyes, brimming with tears that threatened to spill over, were fixed on him in earnest expectation. There was an unwavering belief there, a belief that somehow, despite the odds, he could pull them back from the brink.
"Do you know anyone that works for the government? Please think about it," she implored, her voice hoarse with panic. "Where is your sister Willow? She's a lawyer, and she knows the law. What should we do now?"
His throat tightened, the weight of their collective anxiety pressing down upon him. Mom, please calm down, Willow is out of town, and I can't reach her. William's mind raced, but every thought seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He knew the law, yes, but what good was that against the tidal wave of accusations and investigations crashing down upon them?
"Dad, my company has just been investigated," he managed to choke out. The admission felt like a betrayal, surrendering their last bastion of hope to the encroaching darkness. With a weariness that seeped into his very bones, he retreated to the sofa, his body folding into its familiar contours as despair settled heavily upon his shoulders.
He sat there, dejectedly, the surrounding room a blur of shadows and fading light. His father's stern visage, usually so imposing, now seemed smaller, diminished by the calamity that engulfed them. They were caught in a storm, and William had no shelter to offer.
William's father paced the length of the study, each step a manifestation of his frayed nerves. The room, once a sanctuary of family achievements and proud memories, now felt like a cage, trapping them with the reality of their dire circumstances.
"Dammit, William!" Mr. Greg's voice cracked like a whip in the tense air, the lines on his forehead deepening with distress. "This time, there's no way out. The factory... we can't even muster a penny for the compensation."
William watched as his father wrung his hands, the same hands that had built their family business from the ground up. Now they trembled, not with the vibrancy of creation, but with the paralysis of despair.
"Who would do this to us?" Mr. Greg's eyes searched William's, desperate for an answer, any answer. His voice dropped to a whisper, laced with fear and confusion. "Who wants to harm our family?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. William's mind raced, but it was as if every potential adversary he had ever crossed paths with had evaporated from his memory. He felt the acute sting of helplessness, unable to shield his family from the invisible enemy that sought their downfall.
William's chest tightened, a knot of realization seizing him. He paced the room in restless strides, each step punctuated by the ticking of the grandfather clock, an indifferent witness to their unraveling fortunes. His jaw was set, a hard line that echoed the resolve forming within him.
"Definitely not a coincidence," he muttered under his breath, almost willing the words to unveil the saboteur's identity. The simultaneous blows to the family factory and his company were surgical strikes, aimed with precision to cripple both pillars of his life. Someone had orchestrated this chaos, someone who knew where to hit them hardest.
The pattern was there, lurking just beyond the grasp of his conscious mind, a shadowy figure dancing at the edge of understanding. Kendrick stopped mid-pace, a cold shiver tracing down his spine. "Who is secretly trying to kill me?" The question escaped his lips, a whisper barely audible above the hum of silence that filled the room.
He squinted at nothing in particular, as if by narrowing his focus he could somehow sharpen the blurred edges of the situation into a clear picture of his adversary. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the answer became, slipping through his thoughts like smoke through clenched fingers.