Filthy rich orphan - Claude Davis

My name is Claude Davis. I was born friendless. My mother who had accompanied me for 9 months died on my birth. My father stayed with me half the way back home from the hospital. His worries made him lose sight of the road. Our car jumped up on the sidewalk, turning sideways. My father’s head grinded on the road until bare bones became visible.

Uncle Daniel, my new guardian and friend, told me how horrible it was to see him like that. Nonetheless, it was good being with him. When I graduated and came back home, he was sitting on the far end of the table. His head was down in his plate.

A horrible feeling overcame me. My one and only friend was dead. He was poisoned as it was later discovered. The culprit was soon caught and tried.

I was alone. None of the butlers or the other directors of our company could ever replace him. Well, there was one of them who tried his best and almost succeeded. There will always be such snakes that become close to you for the sake of fulfilling their greed. Still, it’s good that I caught him early on.

Without anyone’s help, I expanded the business and went international. At that point, I became positively busy with all those business trips so the loneliness never really caught up after that. On one such business trip to Islamabad, I saw her.

Her name was Asfah. She was a tenacious young woman amidst all those stereotype-minded men. Even after coming from a conservative family, she had secured an associate spot in a law firm. She was the lawyer for our partners in Pakistan and so, I had lots of opportunities to stay in touch.

When the deadline of the tender was approaching, I started becoming anxious and finally asked her out: “Will you become my friend for the rest of my life?”

Her family was not one to agree so easily. Some of them stopped us in the name of religious laws which she followed. She faltered once, but then decided to have me over her family. I was not proud of taking her away from them but I was happy, because I had her.

She was the best I could have asked. She was my wife, my confidante and my only friend throughout.

And then, she gave me another friend. I named him Daniel, after my uncle.

We were a happy bunch… until they diagnosed her with ischemic heart disease. I was powerless. Even with all that money, I couldn’t prevent her death. Another one of my friends was taken away without any struggle.

I was devastated. But I could not remain so for long, because I had another friend who needed me the most right now. Daniel was in an even worse condition. The boy was just 5, I couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for him.

Ten years have now passed and I’ve managed to heal a lot. Daniel, however, hasn’t. No matter how well he does in school, none of it matters to him. He is still going through the denial stage of grief.

I am not justifying my actions, but I couldn’t resist the thought of having another friend and so Pooja Amrita and I started dating. She had the same shyness in her eyes as Asfah did.

But I don’t know why Dan is repulsed by her. I wanted to tell him on a proper occasion but unfortunately, I snapped at him. I shouldn’t have done that, I know. And that is why I am preparing the breakfast myself today just like I used to do ten years ago.

Step

Step

Step

Daniel came downstairs and was shocked to see me cooking: “Dad… You’re cooking?!”

“I am sorry, Daniel. I couldn’t be the friend you wished for.” I said as I placed the plates on the dining table. He took off his backpack and seated himself on the far end and put his head down in his hands. He looked just like his mother.

Sob Sob

He was crying, and so was I. I am sorry, my son. I really am.

For a while, we kept talking, eating and crying at the same time.