Chapter 2 THE TERMINAL DIAGNOSIS

The hospital room was too white, too sterile, too quiet.

Richard Blackwood lay in the bed, connected to monitors that beeped with mechanical indifference. The heart attack had been massive but not fatal-not yet. The emergency team had stabilized him within minutes of his collapse in the conference room. But forty-eight hours later, the tests had revealed something worse.

Much worse.

Elena Blackwood sat in the chair beside his bed, her hand resting on his. At sixty-two, she was still elegant, still composed, her silver hair styled perfectly even in crisis. But her eyes betrayed her-red-rimmed, exhausted, afraid.

"Mrs. Blackwood, Mr. Blackwood," Dr. Morrison said, entering with a tablet and the expression doctors wore when delivering news no one wanted to hear. "Thank you for your patience while we waited for all the results."

Richard's jaw tightened. "Just tell us."

Dr. Morrison sat in the chair opposite Elena, his movements deliberate. "The heart attack was a symptom, not the primary issue. The scans revealed a mass in your pancreas. We've run multiple tests to confirm."

Elena's hand tightened on Richard's.

"Pancreatic cancer," Dr. Morrison continued quietly. "Stage four. It's aggressive and already metastasized to your liver."

The room seemed to contract around those words.

"Treatment options?" Richard demanded, his voice steady despite everything.

Dr. Morrison's expression answered before his words did. "We can try chemotherapy to manage symptoms and potentially extend your time, but I need to be honest with you both. Pancreatic cancer at this stage... the prognosis is poor."

"How long?" Elena's voice was barely a whisper.

"Without treatment, three to six months. With aggressive chemotherapy, possibly a year. Maybe slightly more if you respond well, but..." He paused. "I won't give you false hope. This is a terminal diagnosis."

The monitors continued their steady beeping, indifferent to the death sentence they'd just witnessed.

Richard stared at the ceiling, his mind calculating, processing, rejecting the information even as he absorbed it. A year. Maybe less. Everything he'd built, everything he'd fought for-reduced to months.

"I'd like some time alone with my wife," Richard said.

Dr. Morrison nodded, standing. "Of course. I'll have the oncology team come by later to discuss treatment plans if you decide to pursue them. I'm very sorry."

The door closed softly behind him.

Silence filled the room-heavy, suffocating silence broken only by the monitors and Elena's carefully controlled breathing.

"Richard," Elena finally said, her voice cracking. "Richard, I-"

"Don't," he interrupted. "Don't cry. Not yet."

She bit her lip, tears streaming down her face anyway. "A year. They're giving you a year."

"Maybe more."

"Maybe less." She squeezed his hand harder. "This can't be happening. Not now. Not when-"

"When what?" Richard's voice was sharp. "When I'm finally old enough to slow down? When I should have retired years ago? This was always coming, Elena. We just didn't know when."

"That's not what I meant." She stood, pacing to the window, arms wrapped around herself. "The boys. We have to tell the boys."

"Not yet."

Elena turned, staring at him. "Not yet? Richard, they're your sons. They deserve to know-"

"They'll know when I'm ready to tell them." Richard's tone left no room for argument. "I need to think first. I need to plan."

"Plan?" Elena's voice rose slightly. "You're dying, and you want to plan?"

"Especially because I'm dying." Richard pushed himself up slightly in the bed, wincing at the movement. "Everything I've built-the company, the fortune, the legacy-it all needs to pass to the right hands. I won't die leaving chaos behind."

Elena returned to his bedside, sitting heavily. "Damien and Adrian are both capable. They'll manage-"

"Will they?" Richard's eyes were sharp despite his weakened state. "One of them needs to lead. One needs to be CEO, to hold the majority stake. But which one?"

"Does it matter right now?"

"It's the only thing that matters." Richard's voice was fierce. "I have months-maybe a year if I'm lucky-to make the most important decision of my life. To ensure the Blackwood name survives beyond me. To guarantee my legacy."

Elena closed her eyes. "This isn't about legacy. This is about our family. Our sons. They need their father, not a competition."

"They'll have what I give them." Richard's expression hardened. "And what I give them depends on who proves themselves worthy."

"They're both worthy-"

"Are they?" Richard challenged. "Or have they simply been competent? There's a difference, Elena. A vast difference between doing what's expected and truly earning something."

Elena studied her husband's face-the face she'd loved for forty years, now drawn and pale from illness. "What are you thinking?"

Richard was quiet for a long moment, his mind working. "I'm thinking that men prove themselves through pressure. Through competition. Through being forced to show what they're truly made of."

"Richard, no." Elena's voice held warning. "Don't do what you're thinking."

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

"I've been married to you for forty years. I know exactly what you're thinking. You're going to turn your death into a test. A competition between our sons."

Richard met her gaze steadily. "Would that be so wrong?"

"Yes!" Elena stood abruptly. "Yes, it would be wrong! They're brothers, Richard. Twins. They've always been close, always supported each other despite your constant pushing for them to compete. And now you want to-what? Make your dying wish some kind of contest?"

"I want to know which one deserves everything I've built."

"They both deserve it! They're both your sons!"

"But only one can lead." Richard's voice dropped, became almost pleading. "Elena, I need to know. Before I die, I need to know which one will carry the Blackwood name into the future. Which one has what it takes."

Elena sank back into her chair, suddenly looking every one of her sixty-two years. "And how exactly do you plan to determine that?"

Richard's expression shifted-calculating, determined. "I have an idea."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"Legacy," Richard said slowly, "is about blood. About family continuing. About grandchildren carrying the name forward."

Elena's eyes widened. "No. Richard, you can't-"

"The first son to give me a grandchild inherits seventy percent of the empire and becomes CEO," Richard said, his voice gaining strength. "The other gets thirty percent. It's simple, clean, and it ensures the family line continues."

"It's cruel!" Elena's voice broke. "It's manipulative and cruel and it will destroy them!"

"It will reveal them," Richard corrected. "Their true natures. Their determination. Their worthiness."

"It will poison them against each other."

"Then they're not strong enough to lead anyway."

Elena stared at her husband, seeing the ruthlessness that had built an empire-and recognizing that same ruthlessness was about to tear her family apart.

"Please," she whispered. "Please don't do this."

Richard looked at her, and for a moment, something soft flickered in his eyes. "I'm dying, Elena. I have months. Maybe a year. Let me spend that time knowing my legacy is secure."

"Your legacy is our sons. Both of them. Together."

"My legacy is Blackwood Enterprises. And it needs one leader." He paused. "I've made my decision. I'll announce it soon."

Elena felt tears streaming down her face again. "This will break them."

"No," Richard said with absolute certainty. "It will make them."

She wanted to argue more, to beg, to scream. But she knew that expression on his face. She'd seen it in boardrooms and negotiations for forty years.

Richard Blackwood had decided. And when Richard decided something, nothing in heaven or earth could change his mind.

"When?" Elena asked quietly. "When will you tell them?"

"Soon," Richard said. "Once I'm home. Once I'm strong enough." He met her eyes. "And Elena? You'll support me in this."

It wasn't a question.

Elena looked at her dying husband, at the man who'd given her everything and was about to take everything away, and slowly nodded.

"I'll support you," she said. "But Richard? When this destroys our family, when our sons end up hating each other-that will be on you."

Richard turned his face toward the window.

"Everything has a price," he said quietly. "Even legacy."