Third Person’s POV
In the afternoon, Vincent made his way to the prison to visit his father. Without any visible emotion, he entered the visiting room and took a seat.
He slowly raised his head and saw his father sitting across from him, his wrists bound by handcuffs. Between them stood a rectangular glass door with small holes in the center and a larger hole at the bottom, allowing for hand placement.
His father, who had always carried an air of arrogance and elegance, now appeared weathered by the sun. Dark circles lingered beneath his eyes, and his lips were dry and cracked, as if he hadn't tasted water in days. It seemed as though he had aged rapidly.
As Vincent gazed at his father in this state, he felt nothing. There was no emotional response to seeing the old man before him.
"I thought I would be left alone until the end," Ian remarked.
Vincent kept his slanted eyes cast downward.
"But it seems you, out of all my sons, cared for your parent the most. If only I had known, I would have given you the company instead."
A sinister smirk formed on one corner of Vincent's lips. He looked back at his father and replied, "Do you think I wouldn't do what Lanceil did if I were in his position?"
Ian shut his chopped lips.
"If I were in his shoes, things would spiral out of control. Just be grateful that Lanceil was the one who dealt with the situation. And don't get it twisted, I didn't come here because I was concerned about you. There's absolutely no way I can forgive you."
"..."
"I came here to understand your motive. Before it's too late, explain to me why you kept my mother hidden in the basement. Why did you pretend she was dead?"
The visiting room fell silent. The guards checked the time, but decided to give them a bit more time after witnessing their intense conversation. After all, Ian was facing the death penalty that night.
Finally, the old man spoke. "Your mother and I had an arranged marriage."
Vincent wasn't shocked by the response. He and Lanceil had been aware of this from the start.
"I married your mom for business reasons. She used me to the fullest to help their company grow. But do you know what she did after my family business went bankrupt? She treated me like a useless husband."
"..."
"Your mom threatened to divorce me!" Ian exclaimed, slamming the table. "After all I did for her, she's going to discard me!"
"..."
"But... I didn't kill her." Ian smirked, then added, "I didn't kill my wife for the sake of my children."
Vincent clenched his fists. "So you did all those terrible things just to inherit my mom's wealth?"
"All of you benefited from it. Isn't that right?"
“YOU…!” Vincent's voice trembled with anger as he shouted, standing up and turning away from his father. He rubbed his face, his shoulders rising and falling with each sharp breath. After stomping his feet, he glared back at his evil father.
"Until the end..." His voice cracked.
Vincent licked his lips, tears streaming down his face.
"Until the end, you never showed any remorse. You killed my sister-in-law because she saw my mom. You conspired with Mr. Dawson out of greed. You took the lives of so many innocent people! Do you really think Lanceil and I will ever forgive you? No! We despise you!"
Ian looked down, his hands trembling on the table.
"I came here hoping to find a shred of fatherly love in you," Vincent sobbed, shaking his head. "But I was wrong."
Ian closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“We will never forgive you,” Vincent murmured. “Remember that. Even on your deathbed, we won’t see you as our father.” He nodded firmly. “Never.”
Vincent turned to leave.
It was then that Ian realized it was too late for regrets. And so...
“Vincent.”
His son halted, but didn’t turn around.
“Can’t you just call me dad one last time?”
Silence.
“Before I go, I just want to hear that word.”
Vincent clenched his fists. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? Even in death, you won’t be my father. So die alone. Cry alone. Suffer as we did. You deserve it.”