As Sarah and John disappeared through the door, Taylor walked over to Oliver, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion. He had watched the entire scene unfold, and Oliver's sudden softness toward John and Sarah didn't sit right with him. Taylor was never one to be compassionate, and the idea that Oliver , someone he considered to be as ruthless as the rest of them , would offer any kind of leniency baffled him.
Taylor leaned in close, keeping his voice low. "What's with you today, Oliver? Why the soft-hearted act?"
Oliver chuckled softly, brushing a speck of lint from his suit jacket. "Soft-hearted?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You misunderstand me, Taylor. This is all part of the bigger plan. Sarah will come back to me. It's only a matter of time."
Taylor's brow furrowed. "Letting them walk out of here doesn't seem like the way to get her back."
Oliver smirked, his eyes gleaming with cold calculation. "Oh, but it is. If I play the villain, she'll resist. But if I play the savior , if I'm the one who rescues John, takes care of his medical bills, gives him a way out , Sarah will start to see me in a different light. She'll feel indebted, grateful even. And once John realizes that he's nothing without my generosity, it'll all fall into place."
Taylor blinked, processing the idea. "So, this whole thing… it's a game to you?"
Oliver's smile widened, and he clapped Taylor on the shoulder. "Of course. Everything is a game, Taylor. And I don't lose."
Taylor grinned, understanding now. "So what's next?"
"I'll take John to the hospital," Oliver said smoothly. "I'll cover the medical bills, make a show of it. Sarah will have no choice but to accept my help. They're broke. They need me. And when John recovers, he'll owe me. He'll know that his entire life depends on what I decide. Eventually, Sarah will realize that I'm the only man who can truly provide for her."
Taylor nodded, impressed by the depth of Oliver's manipulation. "You're a piece of work, Oliver."
Oliver gave a small bow, mocking the compliment. "I aim to please."
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-Later at the Hospital-
The sterile white walls of the hospital room were a stark contrast to the cold, dark basement they had just escaped. John lay unconscious on the hospital bed, his body covered in bandages, his face bruised but finally at rest. Machines beeped steadily beside him, monitoring his vitals. Sarah sat by his side, her hand clasped around his, her eyes red from exhaustion and worry.
She hadn't wanted to accept Oliver's offer to take John to the hospital, but she had no choice. They had no money, no resources. If Oliver hadn't stepped in, John might not have survived the night. Still, she knew better than to trust him. Oliver always had an ulterior motive. This was just another one of his games, and she was painfully aware of that. But for now, she had to play along. John needed help, and Oliver was providing it , for now.
A few hours later, Sarah stood and stretched, her body aching from sitting for so long. She glanced at John, who was still unconscious, and decided to step out to speak with the doctor about his condition. She kissed his hand gently, whispering, "I'll be right back."
As she left the room, the door swung shut behind her, leaving John alone. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines, steady and reassuring.
A few moments passed, and then John stirred. His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the harsh light of the hospital room. His body ached, every muscle protesting as he tried to shift in the bed. He took a shallow breath, grimacing at the sharp pain in his ribs, but then his focus sharpened, and he noticed a figure standing by the door.
It was Oliver.
John's heart sank, and he tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. He groaned, his body refusing to cooperate. Oliver, noticing John's struggle, stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, his face calm and collected.
"So," Oliver said, his voice dripping with mock concern, "you're awake."
John glared at him, his throat dry and his voice weak. "What… what are you doing here?"
Oliver smirked, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the bed. "Oh, just checking in on my investment. After all, I'm paying for your little stay here. I figured I'd make sure you're still breathing."
John's jaw clenched, but he didn't have the strength to argue. He felt trapped, powerless, and Oliver's presence only made it worse.
Oliver leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. "I hope you remember our deal, West."
John's eyes narrowed, confused. "What deal?"
Oliver chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Don't play dumb. You and your so-called wife belong to me now. I've saved your life, paid your bills, and given you a job. That means I can do whatever I please with both of you."
John's heart pounded in his chest, the reality of the situation sinking in. He had no money, no resources, and now, no freedom. Oliver had them cornered.
"You… you can't control Sarah," John rasped, his voice weak but defiant. "She'll never be yours."
Oliver's smile faltered for a brief moment, but it quickly returned, colder than ever. "You still don't get it, do you? Sarah doesn't need to love me. She just needs to realize that I'm the only option she has left. And you? You're a liability. A burden."
John's blood boiled, but his body was too weak to respond. He wanted to fight, to scream, but all he could do was lie there, helpless as Oliver loomed over him.
Oliver stood, straightening his suit jacket. "I'll leave you to rest now. But remember, John , you and Sarah are mine. And the sooner you accept that, the easier things will be for both of you."
With that, Oliver turned and walked out of the room, leaving John alone with the crushing weight of his words.
The door clicked shut, and the rhythmic beeping of the machines continued, eerily steady as John lay there, the truth settling like a stone in his chest.