Father and his will
As I stand amidst the mourners at my father's funeral, a deep sense of desolation envelops me. The absence of anyone approaching me to express their condolences or acknowledge the profound loss I'm enduring amplifies my sorrow. The bitter sting intensifies, for no one in attendance even realizes the true relationship I shared with the deceased. The weight of this realization crushes my heart, knowing that my father wanted to shield and safeguard me from the harsh realities of the world. He deliberately presented me as someone he had discovered, concealing our connection from the world. The grief I experience intertwines with a burning rage, propelling a vow within me. I swear an oath that the person responsible for my father's demise will face excruciating retribution, but not within the confines of the law or through the police. No, their punishment will be exacted by my own hands.
Just as my thoughts begin to spiral deeper into contemplation of vengeance, a man disrupts my introspection, cutting through the tempest of emotions that rages within me.
"Are you Miss Tory?" he inquires, breaking the solitude I had resigned myself to.
Momentarily startled by the audacity of someone daring to approach me, I manage to compose myself and respond, "Yes, do you require something?"
The man, evidently anxious, discloses, "Yes, I need to discuss Mr. Vegas' will with you. I am his lawyer, and he specifically mentioned you. The matter at hand is of a confidential nature. If it is agreeable to you, could we converse in the car or find a more suitable location?"
Intrigue seizes me, fueled by curiosity about the secrets my father had entrusted to this man. I carefully consider his request before uttering my response, "Sure, what about tomorrow?"
"Okay," he replies, his nervousness still palpable.
A day hastens by, propelling me into a future entwined with unforeseen revelations. The lawyer, devoid of any semblance of emotion, proceeds to elucidate my father's final wishes.
"Well, I am aware that you are Miss Tory Vega. However, according to your father's will, your only remaining family member is your mother. Consequently, until you reach the age of 18, you will be required to reside with her. At that juncture, you will have the opportunity to assume control of your father's business," he states, detachedly delivering the news. Being well-versed in the intricacies of human interaction, I discern the subtle tremors that betray his emotional state, prompting a slight smile to form upon my lips.
Yet, as his words settle within me, a surge of conflicting emotions courses through my being. Although I had previously harbored a readiness to annihilate him for such a proclamation, my father's expressed desires inhibit my wrath.
Thus, here I find myself, ensconced within the backseat of a vehicle that collected me from the airport, en route to the dwelling of my so-called mother. However, I refuse to assume a docile facade or engage in acts of kindness. No, that will never come to pass. I shall never extend forgiveness to a woman who prioritized wealth and opulence over her own flesh and blood, forsaking both a devoted husband and a daughter who craved her love.
Absolutely not.