The Billionaire's Lie

There are people I don't quite recognize at Dad's funeral. They look like moguls and tycoons , dressed in silk black , with bodyguards around them. One would think this is the burial of the Mafia. But then, Dad could have been Mafia. Who knows?

"Rachel," I turn around and see Mum walking up to me. "We have to head home soon. The reading of the will will be taking place."

"Can't it be done tomorrow?"

"No, Rachel. It has to be done today. "

"I'll meet you at home. " She looks at me for a lingering second before moving on. I want to see if I can strike up a conversation with any of these people. Maybe attract a business collaboration.

A small smile spreads across my face. I'd just buried my dad in less than ten minutes, and I'm already thinking of striking a deal.

I see one of them walking up to me - Dad's friend , Mr. Westwood.

"Rachel," he smiles. "How do you do?"

"I'm very well, thank you. How do you do?" I reply , as politely as I can.

"I'm alright. Where's your mother?"

"Oh, she's gone home."

"The poor thing. Make sure you take care of her , " he says with a sympathetic expression on his face -one I don't find irritating, unlike the others.

"Yes, sir, I will."

"If you ever need anything, feel free to come to me, okay?"

"Okay, sir."

"Alright now. I'll be on my way," he says as he gives me a light, fatherly pat on the back and walks back to his car.

I guess it's time to head back home.

Once Jason pulls into the driveway, I start to feel nervous. I wonder what could be in that will. I enter the house and see Mum, Aunt Vera, and Aunt Lillian - Dad's sisters ; Collins, Jude, Stephanie, and Rina - my cousins ; lots of other family members whose names I' ve forgotten ; and Dad's lawyer, present to hear Dad's will concerning his properties.

I greet Mum and walk past them to take a seat.

"Mr. Raymond?" Mum breaks the silence. "You can go on now, please. "

"Thank you, Mrs. Hartley."

He starts reading out the will, but I'm not even paying attention. I'm soaking up everybody's expressions .

"...and to my only daughter, Rachel Hartley," Mr. Raymond's voice echoes my name, pulling me back to the present. "I bequeath Hartley Holdings, on the condition that she weds within two weeks of this being read. Should she fail to marry within the stipulated time, the company shall be given to my first nephew, Collins."

My mouth goes dry.

I can feel the air tighten around me. Two weeks? Huh?

My eyes dart to the paper in Mr. Raymond's hand, as if rereading the words with my own eyes would make them change. Two weeks to find a husband, or everything I've worked for would be gone.

Is this his final joke? Some sick, twisted power play from six feet below?

I'd spent the last five years reshaping myself into the daughter he wanted . I walked away from my dreams of neurosurgery, and stepped into the cold marble floors of Hartley Holdings just to prove I could be the daughter he expected me to be. I let him mold me into the heir he wanted and sacrificed my dreams for his.

But no.

This is how he repays me.

"I know this may come as a shock," Mr. Raymond says, his voice softer now. "But this is Mr. Hartley's final wish."

I feel heat rush to my cheeks, a bitter cocktail of anger and humiliation burning inside me. My fists clench in my lap, nails digging into my palms until I almost welcome the sting. At least pain is honest.

"Would that be all?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intended.

Mr. Raymond blinks "Yes... that concludes the reading."

The room stirs as others exchange glances, some trying, and failing, not to look smug or amused.

I stand up slowly, smoothing my skirt with deliberate calm. "Thank you, Mr. Raymond."

"On that note," he says, quite apprehensively, "I'll be taking my leave."

I sink back into the soft leather shoulder and stare at the ceiling, a grand chandelier hanging in the centre, a monstrous piece of crystal and gold that gleams beneath the soft lighting. As the crystals sparkled like a sky of tiny suns, a dark thought crossed my mind. I wish—just for a fleeting, wicked moment—that Dad was sitting right beneath it. And then, just as suddenly, the whole damn thing would come crashing down on his arrogant head.

Maybe then, he’d understand what it felt like to have your life crushed by something you never saw coming. Instead, he's already gone.

I bounce to my feet and ascend angrily up the stairs to my room and slam the door.

I lean my head on the wall for a while before collapsing on my bed, the phrase “two weeks” ringing repeatedly in my head.

This is unfair. I'm the reason why Hartley Holdings is where it is today. I collaborated on projects with other companies, and I brought it public recognition. I should have been made CEO even before he died. I deserve it.

Now I have to get married before I can inherit the company I worked my ass off for.

While still wallowing in despair, I hear a knock on my door. That was fast.

"Rachel, open up!” Giving a heavy sigh, I open the door to reveal Layla, my best friend. She couldn't be at Dad's funeral because she had an interview. She throws herself around me in a hug, and I just stay still.

"How are you?” she says as she pulls away and looks at me.

"Fine.”

“Yeah, right, spill. It's been a long day”

Of course I could talk to her about it.

I tell her everything and watch her assimilate it all. The first thing she says is, “We need to find you a husband. ASAP.”