The Will

　　ABBY

　　These past few days of my life were so exhausting and full of pain and anguish. I can’t believe that I’m still breathing. Barely. Barely breathing. I’ve been through a lot in my life but losing someone you love is different than being held captive and torture. Although I’m also affected mentally, I’m not heartbroken. Unlike mom’s death. 

　　Nothing in this world can ever replace my mother. I don’t even care about the will, but it’s mom’s legacy. Her Testament will only remind me that my mother is truly gone and never come back. I just need to be strong, for dad, my only family left. 

　　Last night, Dad reminded me before going to sleep. Today is the day of the reading of Mom’s will. I saw the pain in Dad’s eyes no matter how he tried to hide it from me. He just lost someone he dearly loves and has been his life partner for almost three decades. It sucks, I know. 

　　Dad’s office reminds me of a lot of things. From my childhood until today. I still remember coming to this office when I’m still in grade school. I love reading books in this place, even I have my own mini library and study room, especially when Dad’s around. Today it reminds me of loss.

　　I run my hand through Dad’s book collections alphabetically arranged according to the author’s last name. I guess it’s in the blood of being a bookworm. His huge mahogany desk is still the same for as long as I can remember. On the left side are a few of his liquor collections, although Dad doesn’t drink much. He has his own cellar here in our home. 

　　Mom’s lawyer is already sitting across from Dad. I feel nervous but whatever was written was Mom’s wish. She could just donate all of her money or sell her property to an auction and donate them to those in need, but I hope I can have some of her jewelry as family heirlooms. Some of them passed through generations of Hirlington. 

　　I know Mom’s lawyer. I’ve met him a couple of times. He's in his late sixties, graying a thin layer of hair with thick-rimmed glasses just on the tip of his nose, but he is well known for his practice. Atty. Timothy Sanders started in his late twenties. After extending my hand for him, I sit comfortably. 

　　I take a deep breath. I didn’t pay much attention as he starts mentioning Mom’s name, address, spouse, etc. All I heard are money, bank accounts, properties and assets, and liabilities. When my name is mentioned, I listen intently, and something catches my attention about three conditions. Three conditions? Wait, what? 

　　I must have shouted. Dad and Atty. Sanders’s attention is on me. 

　　“Let him continue, sweetheart,” Dad says.

　　“Well, I really don’t care about Mom’s money. She is gone, and it won't change a thing. She can donate them, and I won't say a thing. You don’t have to continue, Atty. Sanders.,” I say to the Lawyer.

　　I tighten my lips then frown. 

　　“I know it’s hard for you, Abbygail, but let me continue. It’s your Mom’s will. You have to honor her wishes.” Atty. Sanders says. 

　　I nod. “Okay, please continue. I apologize for the interruption.” 

　　I listen carefully. My hands start sweating. 

　　“Three conditions,” the attorney continues. 

　　I listen half interested. I hear in between words and sentences.

　　“All will be transferred to my daughter Mackenzie Abbygail Catherine a.k.a Abbygail Catherine within three years, otherwise, all will be transferred to my representative permanently.” 

　　My eyebrows furrow. 

　　“One, a tie of matrimony to Mr. Sebastian Christopher W. Hughes III within a month of my death. No divorce within three years, otherwise, all conditions will be forfeited.” 

　　My hands instantly cover my mouth. I freeze and just stare with eyes wide open. 

　　“Two. A Trust fund including educational fund, housing allowance, foods, bills, etc., will be fully paid by my representative within three years, as monthly allowance according to her status of living.” 

　　I remove my hands from my mouth. My gut twists in knots.

　　“Three. My representative, Mr. Sebastian Hughes III, will take all the rights and ownership of all my properties after three years when any of my conditions are not met.” 

　　I shake my head. I can’t believe this. I motion him to stop.

　　“Sebastian Christopher Hughes III?” I shriek, observing both of them. Nobody talk.

　　“Sebastian? As in the Seb? The playboy, bad boy, and a man-whore?” I narrow my eyes. 

　　“Unbelievable! Un-fucking-believable! Does he know about all of it?” No one answers.

　　“Of course, he knew. How could Mom let me marry this man for God three awful years of my life.” I look at Dad, who’s seemingly calm.

　　“You knew about this, don’t you, Dad? Why didn’t you stop her? I’m still in college, and the last thing on my mind is getting married. I thought you both want me to enjoy life, have friends, travel all over the world, and finish my MBA. I didn’t even go out on a proper date or yet been kissed. I didn’t even experience a teenage life, and now everything is ruined because I’m getting married. What do you want me to do? Just pop out kids, stay at home, and make myself crazy as I wait for my man-whore of a husband to come home and spread my legs? Tell me, Dad, does he even want to marry someone like me who is totally beyond damaged? An inexperienced, naive, full of baggage? I don’t even know how to cook or boil water. What more changing diapers? I’m sure he’ll be disgusted when he found out about this. Oh, I read on the internet about him. He probably has STD because he slept most of the women in this freaking state.” Both of them just stare at me in shock.

　　“I don’t want this God damn money or anything that belongs to Mom. And I’m leaving tonight.”

　　Before I can move from where I’m standing, Dad catches my hand. 

　　“Sweetheart, your Mom was an intelligent woman. She knew what she is doing, writing her will. You have to know that. Respect whatever is written there. You can’t change anything. It's already done.” Dad’s voice is composed.

　　“She must be drugged or confused while writing that.” I look at the lawyer and continue. “Or maybe you misheard, misspoke, or overlooked. Please? This can’t be happening. There must be a mistake. I’m sure he won't agree with this. He seems to enjoy his life well. He won't just agree to marry me. This is so ridiculous. I’m going to destroy his life. Marrying him or forcing him into marriage is entirely insane. He’ll laugh his ass off at me. He will think Mom was out of her mind. He can have them.” I throw my hands in the air.

　　“Sweetheart, pumpkin. I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry, and I’ll arrange everything. It’ll be okay. We have a month to do it. That is your Mom’s assets, pumpkin. Your Mom works hard to earn everything that she had, and you deserve to have every penny of them.” I throw my head back and laugh. 

　　“I don’t think I deserve every penny, Dad, because if I do, she didn’t have to let me go through all of these. I think she wanted me to suffer. She didn’t trust me enough. She thought that I might just throw all her assets into a pothole. She still thought I’m irresponsible. She was still blaming me for what happened to me three years ago.” I shake my head. My lips start to tremble. 

　　Dad holds my arms. He looks at me directly in my eyes “Pumpkin, she knew you well. She wanted you to concentrate on your studies and follow your dreams. She knew if she would let me handle your trust funds, I will pamper you. She wanted you to grow up well into a responsible woman. If you are busy managing your money, how would you concentrate at school? What about your MBA? You will thank her soon, sweetheart. Trust me. I can still spoil you through without touching your money and your assets. You know that. I’m already managing your shares in our company. Think of it that you’re investing your money from your Mom in Hughes Industries.” 

　　I flinch. “Yeah, investing myself too by selling my soul to the devil. Oh my god. I feel like a whore. We have our own company, Dad. I think we’re far from bankruptcy. Why did Mom leave everything with him? What’s with Sebastian that Mom trusted him so much? What did Mom see in him that she trusted him over me?” I take a deep breath and blink back my tears.

　　“Stop saying like that, Abbygail, and watch your language, young woman. You’ve been swearing too much, and stop having a very low opinion of yourself. You’re far from broken. You're a survivor, Abbygail. You’re a strong young woman with huge dreams. Don’t forget that. I and your mother love you very so much. Don’t ever doubt that.” Dad looks annoyed and sad at the same time. 

　　I sniff and wipe my tears dry. “I need some air, Dad. I need to get out from here. I need to process all of this.” I face the lawyer who is silent after he read the will thoroughly. I ask for a copy and walk out of Dad’s office without looking back. 

　　I dial Drew and take a deep breath. 

　　“Abby, how did the will go?” 

　　“Very bad. I think I’m gonna sick. Where are you, by the way?” 

　　“I’m out. Your dad asks me to come to his main office. What do you mean by very bad? How bad the very bad, you’re saying?” 

　　“I have three conditions to meet before I’ll get all Mom’s assets. That is even after three years. I guess she wanted me to finish my MBA, but it’s not all that. The worst part is, I have to marry someone within one month after her death. I mean, I really have no choice. Otherwise, I’ll lose everything of Mom’s.” 

　　“Wow. So, you’re getting married, huh? She knew that you would do everything for her. That is not bad, Abby. You can have a marriage of convenience.” 

　　“Marriage, seriously? Mom could just keep the money in the bank until it will reach three years if she didn’t want me to touch them. Why she had to let me marry him of all the people?” 

　　“Wait, Abby. Did I miss something? You mean that man is the representative too?” 

　　“Yeah, he is. Everything will be transferred to him after our marriage.” 

　　“Wow! Who is he, Abby?” 

　　I blow an exasperated sigh. “Sebastian Asshole Christopher Hughes III, himself,” I said, gritting my teeth.

　　“Whoa! Really, that guy?” He laughs. 

　　Why is he laughing? What’s so funny? I’m so pissed right now.

　　“Really? You’re laughing when I’m here wanting to pull my hair out? Seriously? You’re an ass too, Andrew.” 

　　“I’m sorry, sweetie, but your mom really has taste in choosing a man for you. I’ve no doubt.” 

　　“What do you mean?” 

　　“Well, first, he’s well educated, a family friend, a good-looking young man, extremely rich, and confident. He may be a playboy, but he's smart and protective. A man like him can keep you safe. And I’m sure, he won't harm you. You won't have a problem, filing for divorce after three years.” 

　　“And why not?” I’m confused.

　　“Because a man like him doesn’t do relationship. It means he won't fall for you. He’ll just screw around.” 

　　I feel sad about what Drew said. Well, it’ll be easy if he agrees. At least, we’re both not into a relationship, but many things will happen in three years. We could--ugh! It’s hopeless. 

　　“Can’t I at least choose once? At least a man for me. Do I really have a bad taste in men? Well, I don’t know, yet. But they always controlled me, tell me what to do. I love them both but, this is too much. I’m already an adult, for God's sake, yet they treated me like I’m eight years old.” 

　　“Sweetie, I know. You have to understand that if something will happen to you again. Your dad will be miserable. You’re the only one he has right now. If something will happen to him, what about you? You will be alone. How about the company? What will happen? Do you think you can trust all the people here working under your Dad’s wing? Do you think you can manage by yourself and just listen to their advice? I don’t think so. You might be brilliant, but it’s different when dealing with a real business or running a billion-dollar company with lesser experience. You still have lots of things to learn and experience. You need someone like Seb.” 

　　I feel relieved. “You can’t at least cheer me up by saying, he is not good for you, or yeah, he’s an ass. You shouldn’t marry him. I can’t believe you.” 

　　“Hey, I’m your best friend for a reason. I'm where I know what’s best for you.” 

　　“Come home when you’re done. I need a movie marathon and some ice cream.” 

　　“Be home soon, sweetie. Love you.” 

　　“Waiting. Love you too. Bye.” I look at the copy one last time. 

　　I take a deep breath. Now I have the copy, I know what to do next. 

　　To face the devil himself.