The Extraordinary Bride Of The Wyndham Family (Isla and Gabriel) novel Chapter 146

**Extraordinary Bride 146**

Gabriel had been ensconced in the sterile confines of the private hospital room, sitting vigil by his grandfather’s bedside for what felt like an eternity—three long, silent hours that stretched on like a heavy fog. The air was thick with unspoken words and the faint beeping of medical machinery that punctuated the stillness.

Meanwhile, in the lounge room, Wyatt, Landon, John, Sia, and Mia were huddled together, their expressions a mixture of concern and unease. They had all gathered to visit Alfred Wyndham, the patriarch of their family, who had been confined to the hospital ever since the devastating incident involving Isla. The ripple effects of that day had been profound, especially after Anna’s furious accusations directed at him.

Earlier, Alfred had managed to converse with Wyatt, the eldest son—though not by blood, he was still treated as the firstborn. Wyatt had left the room after their brief exchange, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. After him, Alfred had spoken to Landon, the second son, and now it was Gabriel’s turn, the only grandson. But still, the door remained closed, and the tension in the air was palpable.

Curiosity gnawed at the others. What could possibly be taking so long? Surely, the old man wasn’t discussing business matters at a time like this. His health was deteriorating, and they had hoped he would be resting rather than engaging in clandestine conversations.

Wyatt’s restlessness was becoming increasingly apparent. He could feel his patience waning, like a candle flickering in a drafty room. Suddenly, he sprang to his feet, the sharp click of his shoes resonating against the polished hospital floor as he began to pace. The noise echoed in the quiet space, but he was too agitated to care.

“That old man barely gave me thirty minutes of his time,” Wyatt vented, his voice rising in volume. “And then he dismissed me as if I were nothing!”

His words were loud enough for everyone to hear, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“I’m the firstborn of this family!” he continued, his frustration boiling over. “Yet here I am, treated like I don’t matter at all.”

John clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing into cold, steely slits. He felt a wave of anger surge within him, but he struggled to find the right words to counter Wyatt’s tirade. How he longed to unveil the truth—the truth that would shatter Wyatt’s perception of his place in the family. But that wasn’t his intention. He had embraced all of them as his children long ago, nurturing them, loving them, guiding them. He couldn’t simply cast them aside now because they weren’t biologically his.

He had raised them as his own, and he intended to continue doing so. Even his father had supported that decision. But Wyatt… oh, Wyatt made everything so complicated. His relentless negativity, his insatiable thirst for power, always overshadowed by a cloud of anger.

Wyatt was different from the rest.

Always simmering with rage. Always vying for a position he was ill-equipped to hold.

Before Gabriel had taken the reins of the family business, Wyatt had nearly run it into the ground. He had been given countless opportunities, yet each one had ended in disarray. Still, he clung to his ambition for leadership—leadership for which he lacked the necessary qualities.

“If none of you are going to address the injustice happening right now,” Wyatt snapped, his voice dripping with contempt, “I’ll go into that room myself and interrupt whatever they’re discussing.”

“You will do no such thing,” John shot back, standing up abruptly and fixing Wyatt with a fierce glare. “What is wrong with you? What exactly do you want?”

“Justice,” Wyatt declared, his voice unwavering.

He stood defiantly before his father, and in that moment, John realized a stark truth—he was taller than Wyatt.

Stronger. And, at this moment, consumed by a deeper anger.

“I am the only child of my father,” John stated resolutely. “And the wealth you’re so eager to discuss… it was entrusted to me long before you ever came into the picture.”

Wyatt’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

“My father may appear to be in control,” John continued, his voice growing deeper, “but the one who truly governs this family… is me.”

Wyatt blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.

John’s voice dropped an octave, carrying a weight that filled the room. “So if you have grievances, bring them to me. Not to him. I own this empire you keep clamoring about. And if anyone is to determine who receives what…” He paused, allowing his gaze to sweep across the room, taking in his sons and their wives.

“That person is me.”

His declaration hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

For a fleeting moment, a smile flickered across Wyatt’s face. But it wasn’t a smile of acceptance; it was a dangerous smirk that sent a chill down John’s spine.

And John, ever perceptive, saw right through it.