Page 12 of Billion Dollar Dispute

Reading something pre-written wasn’t going to suffice.

I crumpled the paper, squeezing it harder than necessary, and conveyed what I truly wanted to say.

“I always knew death was inevitable, but I never thought I’d have to stand here and say goodbye to my father so soon.” I paused and drew a shaky breath. “My father, Peter Rae, was many things. A provider. A protector. A man who carried his own demons but still tried to shield me from them. He was far from perfect, but he was still my father who loved me very much, and now he’s gone.”

A sob from one of the well-wishers distracted me. It was my father’s youngest sister, Aunt Bianca. She was the only one of his siblings who didn’t fear him or judge him so cruelly, and she was the only one of them who showed any real pain at his death. Dad would be happy to know that she was here to send him off. I doubt he’d be happy to know that Mom couldn’t make it.

“People say that time heals all wounds and that grief fades. But how do you heal from a loss that doesn’t just leave a wound but rips out a piece of you entirely?” I paused and took another deep breath. “My father lived a life in the shadows. He made choices I didn’t always understand, but beneath it all, he loved me, and he didn’t deserve to die this way. He didn’t deserve this. I don’t know who took him from me, and I don’t know why. But I do hope he rests in peace and knows I loved him very much.”

Tears trailed down my face for the first time after my speech, my hands trembling as I thought of my father. Iwondered what he felt in his final moments, how scared he must’ve been knowing his life had come to an end.

I wondered if he thought of me and Mom, if he was sorry he wasn’t around more.

The weight of my own words pressed against my chest, suffocating. I swallowed hard, willing myself not to break, not in front of all these people. Not now.

Then, I felt it.

A shift in the air. A presence that was more unsettling than comforting.

I lifted my gaze, and that was when I saw them.

A small group of men stood near the back of the crowd, dressed in black, their expressions cold as ice. They didn’t belong here—not in the way everyone else here did, and I knew who they were right from the moment I saw them.

They were the Russian mafia my father worked for, and they were here to pay their last respects, too. At least they didn’t consider him a worthless animal who didn’t deserve to be mourned, but it didn’t stop my fingers from curling into my palms.

This must’ve been the second stage of grief—rage.

Dad would have been here if it weren’t for those men. He wouldn’t have been murdered so cruelly if he didn’t get entangled with them.

Red-hot anger flared in my chest, followed by the immense need for revenge.

I stiffened, my chest heaving with more hatred for them than I could control.

I had spent my entire life knowing these men existed. They were dangerous. Cold. Merciless. And now, they stood here, acting like they had any right to grieve him.

My gaze swept over them quickly, my heart hammering as I tried to process the reality of their presence. And then I saw him.

A man stood slightly apart from the others; his posture was relaxed, yet his piercing blue eyes were sharp and watchful. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a rugged jaw and an air of authority that made my pulse stutter. His dirty-blond hair was neatly cut, but there was something about him—something unruly.

Our eyes met.

A silent current passed between us, something unreadable, something that made my skin prickle. He didn’t look away. Neither did I.

Mysterious. Dark. Like all of them.

But there was something different about him, something I couldn’t place.

The priest’s voice pulled me back, signaling the end of the ceremony, and I blinked, breaking the stare.

A prayer was said, Dad was lowered into the ground, and his grave was covered. That was it. That was the end of everything he was.

I stayed beside him hours after everyone else dispersed, just wanting to be near him. Life was fickle; I knew that now, and it broke my heart that I could never get the father-daughter date I’d so badly wanted. I couldn’t fish with him or go for a fancy dinner with him ever again.

This was the end of Peter Rae.

***

I had no idea how long I sat beside Dad’s grave, telling him all the things I wished we’d done and how much I was going to miss him, but the sun had set already, which meant I’d been here alone for at least five hours.