After the therapy session, an encounter that had transcended into a heartfelt expression of gratitude and unspoken promises between Jessica and Davis for a future filled with hope and love.
They sat down for breakfast. Davis, feeling lighter than he had in a long time, reheated the meal which had turned cold due to the therapy taking longer than they had expected.
After eating, Davis picked up the share transfer documents he scrutinized and studied them carefully, his expression composed, before handing them back to her. "Keep it with you," he said, his gaze steady, laced with unwavering trust.
To Davis, it didn’t matter who physically held the papers. What mattered was trust—and he trusted her more than anyone else.
Jessica stared at him in astonishment, her heart swirling with thoughts. Although she had anticipated and imagined several reactions from him, she hadn’t foreseen him returning such a critical document without a second thought.
Her heart trembled slightly. After a brief hesitation, she accepted the documents and tucked it away to the safe she retrieved it from.
Davis leaned back and closed his eyes in a brief thought. When he opened them, they were filled with a sharp, fierce light of determination to turn the tables around.
There was no more time to waste.
Too much had been taken from him. He had been betrayed by his close kins. The recollection of Desmond’s face flashing through his mind made his expression turned ice-cold.
Desmond had laughed at his predicament, taunted him at his lowest point. He had stolen his hard work, his dreams, and trampled on them like dirt.
Now, it is time to make him pay. He would tear everything Desmond loved apart, piece by piece. The power he is craving for, he will take away.
""Babe, I’ll be going out shortly," he said, his voice steady and calm.
Jessica glanced up from her designs. "Do you need help?" she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.
Though Davis had remained attentive and affectionate towards her. She had noticed the subtle changes in his composure an undeniable transformation had taken root—stronger, colder, more dangerous.
"Not particularly. Except for one thing," he said, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.
Jessica set down her pencil, giving him her full attention, her concern palpable.
Seeing her seriousness, Davis’s heart softened momentarily. A warm smile graced his lips. "Don’t overwork yourself. Take care of yourself, alright?" he said, his tone gentle yet laced with seriousness.
He had come to know she is a workaholic, as long as there is work to do she doesn’t care about herself.
"Davis Allen!" Jessica shrieked in mock outrage, she didn’t expect that after all her focused concern, this was his request.
Shouldn’t he have said that earlier? She thought he was going to say something serious!
"What did you just call me?" He teased his brow raised. "Isn’t that address wrong? Have you forgotten?" He concluded.
Jessica met his gaze with a pointed glare.
"Not quite right," he teased, his voice playful but layered with a mischievous undertone. "If you’ve forgotten, I’d be happy to remind you."
Jessica, wise to his tricks, turned back to her designs, hiding the blush creeping across her cheeks as she already imagined just how he might remind her. "Hooligan," she muttered under her breath, but a shy smile curved her lips.
Before Davis could respond, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway cut through the moment. Steeling himself, he maneuvered back into his wheelchair.
Though he had made progress in therapy, he remained dependent on it, since his movement isn’t steady and partly as a facade to mask his recovery from enemies who would exploit any sign of strength because for now, it was safer to stay hidden.
"I’m leaving. I’ll be back later," he said, pressing a soft kiss to Jessica’s cheek "Don’t forget to rest," he stressed further before heading to the door.
As he wheeled himself towards the door, Ethan tapped lightly from the other side. Davis opened it, greeting Ethan with a curt nod.
""How is everything?" Davis asked as Ethan grasped the wheelchair handles and pushed him out.
"All preparations are complete. They’re waiting for you. A few have defected, though—perhaps best to let them go," Ethan reported crisply, quietly taking his stance as the assistant.
When they reached the car, Davis boarded with Ethan’s help. The guards assigned to him following suit. Then the car pulled out of the driveway, smooth and steady.
Ethan sat in the front seat, almost buzzing with excitement. Finally, he thought, he’s back to his position after the tumultuous time.
This marked Davis’s first deliberate step toward reclaiming everything he had lost to Desmond.
When the accident happened, he lost everything—his company, his freedom, his future. While he struggled in the hospital, Desmond enjoyed the life he had built with his own hands.
Yet, unknown to Desmond, Davis had retained a secret asset—an elite security team, hidden from public record and corporate filings.
Not all of them had stayed loyal. Some had betrayed him. But those who remained—those few—would be enough.
Sitting in the front seat, Ethan could scarcely contain his excitement—Davis had returned. But the man beside him was not the same.
He was sharper, colder, more dangerous.
"What are your findings?" Davis asked, his voice regal, laced with an oppressive authority that commanded instant obedience.
Even though he was sitting in the back, it felt like he filled the entire car with his presence.
Ethan passed him an envelope filled with reports. Davis flipped through the contents quickly, taking note of the essential details. His gaze darkening more and more as he read through them.
The temperature inside the car seemed to plummet as his anger rose. The driver swallowed hard, maintaining control only through sheer force of training.
Ethan watched as Davis’s grip on the documents tightened, the papers bending under his fingers. His breathing grew heavier, his anger a living thing inside the small space.
After some minutes, Davis closed his eyes briefly while he took a deep breath to calm his temper. "I see," Davis said quietly. His voice was like a blade—cold, sharp, merciless cutting through the tension in the car.
"Try finding the driver as that could give a close clue to something reasonable."he instructed further. His eyes colder as several thoughts flashed through his mind.