The Contract Scheme

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?" How do you read a dead person's will the same day you bury them? "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. Oh well. He wired me that way. 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 just gone home." "The poor thing. Is she okay? 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. Oh well. 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. They all stare at me, but I don't care. I greet Mum and walk past the rest of 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. It's as if everyone else in the room had taken a collective step back, watching to see if I'd combust. 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 - everything I'd given up so much for-would be gone. Given out to an individual who hasn't worked a day in his life? 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 scholarship at Parsons, dumped 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 traded experiments for spreadsheets, saving lives for boardroom presentations. I let him mold me into the heir he wanted and sacrificed my dreams for his. But no. This is how he repays me. A lifetime of silent sacrifices, all boiled down to this : get married in two weeks or lose everything. Like I was some pawn in a corporate chess game he was still playing, even in his grave. "I know this may come as a shock," Mr. Raymond says, his voice softer now. "But this is Mr. Hartley's final wish." Final wish. I almost laugh out loud. Hasn't it always been his wish to control me? To ensure I lived life on his terms? Even in death, he was pulling the strings. And I, the fool, Rachel Hartley, still get tangled in them. 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, hesitating. "Yes... that concludes the reading." The room stirs as others exchange glances, some trying, and failing, not to look smug or amused. I catch my Aunt Vera smirking behind her lace handkerchief. Of course. They all thought I'd fail. That I'd crumble under this impossible condition. Let them. I stand up slowly, smoothing my skirt with deliberate calm. "Thank you, Mr. Raymond." He gives a respectful nod. "Rachel, if you'd like, I can offer some-" "I'll handle it," I cut in before he can finish. I meet every single stare in the room, holding their gazes one by one until most of them shift away. They'd waited for me to fall apart. Prayed for it, even. They were waiting for Hartley Holdings to slip from my grasp. But if my father wanted to play games with my life, I'd play to win. Marriage in two weeks? Fine. If that's what it takes to take everything he'd built and make it mine, I'd do it. "On that note," he says, quite apprehensively, "I'll be taking my leave." "That's fine . Jeremy will see you out ." Mum says. 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. It was worth a small fortune, probably custom-made in some European factory Dad never even visited. 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. And I'm left staring at the chandelier in a room filled with people in stiff suits and different expressions on their faces. It's suffocating. Mum had been quiet through the whole thing. I guess she's trying to process it too. 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. I sat up and placed a call to the kitchen. "I want ice cream and chocolate cake...no no, to my room...make it both flavours...with rainbow sprinkles...thank you." I shouldn't be taking such sweet things, but I need it right now. This is unfair. I'm the reason why Hartley Holdings is where it is today. In fact, I've practically been the CEO ever since I started overseeing things there. 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" I sigh. Of course I could talk to her about it. Another knock raps on the door. It better be my order this time. I open up, and it is. "Uh, could you make this again, please, at least triple? I have a guest." I say to Emily, the maid who took my order. She beams a smile at me. "Coming right up, ma'am." And she turns to leave. I close the door behind her and make my way to my bed. Layla is already helping herself to some cake. I tell her everything and watch her assimilate it all. The first thing she says is, "We need to find you a husband. ASAP."