“Then what are you suggesting? That we give up our only chance at justice to help you in your corporate war?” – sarcasm appeared in her voice again.
I stood up. “No. I suggest you think. Think about who the real enemy is. The one who made mistakes in the past and is now trying to make amends, or the one who is using your tragedy as a stepping stone to power.”
I left her alone with her thoughts. I knew I had planted a seed of doubt. Whether it would germinate was up to her.
In the following weeks, the storm raged in full force. The summons arrived. The media, sniffed by Simeon’s PR team, smelled blood. Articles began to appear with headlines like “The Dark Past of Tycoon Assen,” “Betrayal at the Foundation of ‘Empire’.” My reputation, which I had built over decades, was collapsing. My stock price began to fall. Simeon was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
I was forced to defend myself. Radoslav hired a team of the best lawyers. We began to prepare our strategy. We were in the absurd situation of looking for ways to discredit the claim of the family, which I was trying to help at the same time. Every step was torture.
The conflict with Deyan escalated. He gave interviews in which he described me as a monster. Every word he said was imbued with sincere pain and hatred, which made it even more convincing. He was the perfect puppet for Simeon – young, angry, with a tragic story that evoked sympathy.
And Lilia was silent. She did not participate in the media hype. When she was sought for comment, she refused. She spent all her time in the clinic, by the bedside of Naum, who was slowly but surely improving. He had come out of critical condition. Sometimes he was even conscious for short periods of time.
That silence worried me and gave me hope at the same time. It meant, R-that she hadn’t blindly sided with her brother. It meant she was thinking.
One day I received a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Asen? It’s Lilia calling.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Grandpa is awake. And he wants to talk to you.”
Chapter 5: Bedside Conversation
The road to the clinic seemed endless. Thousands of scenarios were running through my head, each worse than the last. What did Naum want to tell me? To curse me? To tell me to my face how much he hated me? I was prepared for anything. I deserved it.
Lilia was waiting for me outside the room. Her face was calm, but her eyes were serious.
“He’s weak. Don’t stress him,” she said quietly. “The doctors don’t allow long conversations.”
I nodded. I took a deep breath and went inside.
Naum sat half-upright in bed, propped up with pillows. He was still thin and pale, but there was a spark of life in his eyes that I hadn’t seen since that day in his apartment. The machines around him were making soft, rhythmic sounds.
He looked at me. There was no hatred in his gaze. There was only endless, deep weariness.
“Assen,” he murmured. His voice was weak, hoarse, but it was his voice.
I approached the bed. I didn’t know what to say. All the prepared words, all the apologies, seemed pathetic and inadequate.
“Why?” he asked. That was the only question. Not “how could you?”, not “do you know what you did to me?”. Just “why?”.
And I told him. I told him about the fear, the ambition, the greed. I told him how envy of his genius had turned into a poison that had made me want everything for myself. I spoke at length, pouring out everything I had kept bottled up for thirty years. I didn’t make excuses. I just admitted it.
He listened to me without interrupting. When I finished, the room fell silent, broken only by the beeping of the machines.
“Do you know what was the worst?” Naum asked after a moment. “It wasn’t the money. It wasn’t even the company. It was losing a friend. I thought we were brothers.”
“We were,” I whispered. “I was the one who killed that brotherhood.”
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