The Funeral

James stood at the platform, his grasp tightening on the edges as he looked out at the ocean of depressed faces that had gathered to pay their respects. His father's burial appeared weird and too heavy for him to handle. The room became packed with melancholy expressions, tear-stained cheeks, and a low murmur of condolence. Eulogies were delivered, each paying homage to Richard Reed's legacy as a billionaire, visionary, and industry-shaping figure. His father had been larger than life, and the news of his leaving hit James like a tidal wave.

The whole thing felt blurry—humans he hadn't seen in years giving sympathetic looks, the distant sound of a choir, and the faint aroma of lilies in the air. James found it difficult to focus on one aspect. His heart ached from the loss, but his mind was filled with questions, responsibilities, and expectations. The weight of his father's legacy seemed to grow heavier on his shoulders with each passing second.

As he examined the target market, he saw familiar faces—a mix of business associates, old family friends, distant cousins, and those who had come to pay their respects. All of them looked at him, their eyes full with expectation. It felt as if the entire international community had turned their attention to him, waiting for him to say or do anything that would define how he might carry on Richard Reed's legacy.

James gulped hard, a sense of unease settling over him. His father's shadow loomed large, weighing heavily on his future. He had always expected to arrive at this time, but not this swiftly or under these circumstances. The eyes on him appeared to tear through his serenity, silently asking the question he dreaded: could he live up to his father's huge expectations?

The service had ended, but James was only beginning to understand the gravity of what had come before. As individuals rose to offer him muted condolences, James noticed himself moving naturally, shaking palms, expressing grief, and nodding civilly. His emotions were intense, yet he kept them tightly wound, concealing his true thoughts beneath a front of calm. Each greeting and slap on the shoulder served as a reminder of how much was expected of him.

He was quickly stopped by a large, imposing figure: Henry Lee, his father's longtime friend and business partner. Henry's demeanor had always been one of vitality, but today his face was filled with soreness.

"James, my boy," Henry's voice became emotional as he dragged James into a short but uncomfortable embrace. "Your father has grown into a fantastic man." He is considered unique. I'm sorry he's long gone."

James should have difficulty forming phrases. A lump formed in his throat, but he managed a good nod. Thanks, Henry. "Which means a lot coming from you," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of feelings he had converted into a modestly reserved answer.

As they talked, James detected a flicker of movement. He didn't recognize the lady standing across the room, away from the audience. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her piercing green eyes were fixed on him without wavering. She was adorable, mysterious, and somehow familiar, yet James couldn't recall where he had seen her previously.

"Who is that?" he asked nonchalantly, nodding closer to her.

Henry followed his gaze, raising a brow and curving his lips into a tiny, understanding smile. "Ah," he said slowly. "That's Sophia Patel, James. "She is your father's protege."

James' brow furrowed in wonder. "Protege?" The phrase felt strange as if it didn't belong in the same sentence with his father. "I failed to recognize he had a protege."

Henry's eyes have softened, and his tone has become more covert. "Sure, your father has high expectations for her. I wanted her to work for Reed Industries claimed she possessed the type of keen intellect that would carry the firm forward.

James' attention returned to Sophia, who remained on the periphery, observing and preparing. He sensed a spark of something—possibly curiosity or mistrust. Why hadn't his father mentioned her? What role had she played in his life, and more importantly, what role did she hope to play in the company's future?

Sophia turned and went into the crowd before James could pose any similar queries, leaving him with more questions than answers.

The day's calm quickly turned into a whirlwind of emotions, handshakes, and goodbyes. James meandered through it all, his thoughts half-focused, the burden of the day weighing down on him with each step. However, the questions about his father—approximately Sophia—hung at the back of his mind, nagging at him like a slow, creeping concern.

The burial service grew extremely silent. The finality of it all seemed like a hammer slamming his chest as he saw his father's casket be reduced to the ground. The sight struck him harder than anything else on that day. The individual who appeared larger than life and ruled every room he entered was suddenly being lowered to the ground. Long gone, all the time.

James began to feel a raw, violent sense of commitment. He clenched his hands, his jaw tensed with determination. He had no choice but to make his father proud. He may take Reed Industries to new heights. He could prove himself worthy of the Reed call. And he would keep track of any secrets or procedures that his father had kept from him. There was more to this, and James would reach the bottom of it.

Because the crowd dispersed and mourners returned to their automobiles, James stood alone, staring at the freshly excavated grave, lost in thought. The area around him felt distant and muted. His heart became heavy, but his mind was already racing with what was to be done next.

A soft tap on his shoulder broke his daydream. James started to recognize Sophia standing behind him, her green eyes filled with unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry, James," she said, her voice full of passion. "Your father changed into a wonderful guy."

James nodded, but the worry that had settled in his chest earlier had returned to full force. How much did she recognize about his father's plans? What was her relationship to all of this? And, more significantly, what did she expect from him now?

As they stood there in the fading light, the tension between them grew, as did the unspoken knowledge that something deeper was happening. Her presence felt hot, almost poisonous as if she had transformed into something that could trade everything.

Sophia came in closer, her breath warm on his ear, before James could communicate the thoughts that were running through his mind. For a brief moment, time appeared to stand still, with the weight of the world poised in the air between them.

Then, just as the tension reached its peak, Sophia murmured a single, terrifying remark.

"Run."

James' coronary heart hammered against his chest as he considered the implications of that single word. Run? What's the source? From whom? His thoughts raced, and just as he opened his mouth to ask for explanations, the sector appeared to tilt, the ground under him giving manner. His imaginative and clairvoyant abilities waned, and the world's edges became darker.