Augustine slumped into the back seat, scratching frantically. "I'm going to lose my mind. The itching is unbearable."
"Hang in there. I'm taking you to the hospital right now." Gustave pressed down on the accelerator, speeding off. His eyes flicked repeatedly to the rearview mirror, torn between frustration and concern.
Augustine had always been cautious and meticulous. Yet tonight, he had willingly eaten seafood—something he was severely allergic to—simply because he couldn't bring himself to refuse his wife. He hadn't wanted to dismiss the effort she had put into cooking for him.
Gustave couldn't fathom how someone could willingly endure suffering just to keep another person happy.
Augustine had always been confident, focused, and relentless. For years, he had been preparing to reclaim what was rightfully his, planning his revenge against his uncle and cousin. His determination had never wavered; his purpose had never faltered. Nothing had ever distracted him.
