[Date:13/01/ 2000 ]
The dining room was alive with chatter, the long oak table crowded with plates of roasted chicken, saffron rice, collard greens, and a basket of warm bread rolls. Xavier took his usual seat between Zoe and his mother, across from his Aunt Simone, his father's younger sister, who had travelled up from Philadelphia for the funeral. She is a beautiful woman in her early forties, her dark curls tied up, a silk scarf hanging loosely around her shoulders.
Her eyes still carried traces of sorrow, but she laughed readily at Elena's insistence that the chicken had come out "just right this time." Stories circled the table as the family reminisced over the tasty meal. Grandpa Willy recounted Cassius' first time getting suspended from school. "I was still a rookie reporter back then when I got called to the school because my son had gotten into a fight."
"My first thought was, this can't be true, not my Cassius, the boy was always in his books or on the field. But sure as you like, I get to the school, and he is sitting outside the principal's office with a black eye." He paused for a second, making sure everyone was paying attention. "Now I was worried and very much angry; my son, who never got into trouble, had a black eye."
He proceeded to explain that he had dragged his son into the principal's office and shouted at the poor man for 10 minutes straight. "When he finally got a word in, he said, 'Mr James, your son beat up five kids, all of them are in the infirmary. I know he is a good kid and we weren't expecting this type of behaviour, but he won't tell us why he got into a fight."
"Well, Dad, what happened? You never told us this story before." Aunt Simone voiced the curiosity of everyone at the table who had stopped eating for a moment to listen to the story. "When I finally got him to talk, he said. 'Well, Dad, they crossed the line. They can make fun of me all they want, but they disrespected a sister in front of me, so I had to do it. Reason sometimes needs a fist to make it sink in."
The table erupted in laughter and applause; Zoe clapped her hands together in delight. "No way, Dad actually fought in school," she said, her auburn eyes gleaming with surprise and pride.
Amara's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Your Dad was as stubborn as a bull, but he knew how to pick his battles. And if he fought, it wasn't without reason, but he got into some good trouble in his days."
"True enough," Grandpa Willy nodded, his own pride unmistakable. "But Lord, the phone calls I had to take after that day. Five angry sets of parents, the school board threatening suspension, and a principal who looked ready to retire. Cassius just sat there calm as anything, like he'd already made peace with it. That day, I considered putting belt to cheek for the first time in his life"
For the rest of the lunch, which lasted over an hour, the family continued sharing stories of the loved one they had lost. To each person, he was something completely different, showcased in the impact he had on their lives. To some, he was a son given and chosen; to others, he was a brother, a husband, and, most importantly, a father.
They shared their memories, telling their family members their version of Cassius, as they all found a new side to him. Around 2 pm, the table had been cleared, and the family sat around the table finishing the last of their desserts. Mother had just finished sharing a story of how her husband had chased off her daughter's homcoming date when things became quiet.
The stories had been shared, and all that remained was emptiness that no longer felt as oppressive as before. "Ahem, Xavier, if you don't mind me asking, what are your plans going forward?" Grandpa spoke up, breaking the silence as everyone's attention moved toward Xavier.
"Well, to be honest, I had some doubts last night, but today, after listening to you all describe who my father was to you all, I'm sure." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he glanced at his mother, who had reached out to hold his hand. "Mum might know this, but Dad and I had laid the groundwork for a new venture that would help me chase my dream following graduation, and I think I will see it through to the end; he would have wanted that."
"Are you sure, son? You could well take over your dad's funds. It'll be hard, but Cas used to say that you inherited his brain for business." Maya asked her son; worry was clearly evident in her expression, even though she had been the one to convince her husband to let him pursue his dream.
"I'm sure, mum, it's what's best for me and us going forward." He responded with a reassuring smile before turning to face the rest of the family to give them a general idea of his plans. "We're going to create something tangible."
~~~
[20/01/200, A Week Later, Stonehaven Capital, Broker office,]
"Mr James, are you sure you want to withdraw all your investments? With the current IT market's momentum, it could very well rise further." Mike, a scrawny, well put-together broker from my dad's fund, asked me for what must be the fifth time. "If you're worried about the strategy, we are willing to discuss it and curate one you're comfortable with."
Sighing, I looked him in the eye. I was ready, tired of his attempts to either stall or change my mind. "If you can't do it, I'm more than happy to call my lawyer to let the law figure out what you can and can't do."
Mike swallowed hard, adjusting his thin-framed glasses as though they might shield him from my gaze. "N–no, Mr James, that won't be necessary. I'll file the paperwork and make sure the transfers are processed by the end of the day."
"Good," Xavier replied flatly, leaning back in his chair, his tall frame relaxed despite the discussion of more than $6 billion. "Send confirmation directly to my attorney once it's finalised. I want my money by Monday or I'll take legal measures."
Mike nodded furiously, reaching for the phone. "Of course. But—" he hesitated, lowering his voice, "you must know that withdrawing now will shake a few trees. Your father's partners already view you as..."
"Mike, be honest, if you were, would you entrust your money with the partners to manage?" Xavier calmly asked, fingers interlaced in front of his chest. "This fund was my father's dream, not mine; he knew that and was fine with it, so I'd rather end things cleanly."
"Understood, Mr James, I'll wind down your investments. It shouldn't be too hard with the current market sentiment." Mike promptly entered information into his computer to initiate the process.
Smiling that things were finally moving along, my mood quickly soured as the officer's door swung open. "Xavier, what are you doing here? If you were going to visit, you should have called." Bob's annoying voice droned from the office door, instantly grating on my nerves.
"Oh, why would I need to announce it when I'm visiting my fund? You wouldn't happen to be embezzling client funds, right?" I teasingly asked, but watching the minuscule moment of panic in his eyes, I felt the urge to smack him.
If this were a regular business, embezzling would still be wrong, but the worst that could happen is compensation and prison. However, this fucker was stealing from millionaires and billionaires who had entrusted some of their wealth to him to manage. Not sure what rock he grew up on, but even I know that most of the wealthy people before the 90s in America are criminals.
People who made money from the wars, the suffering the war caused, and circumventing the restrictions of the war. So, in a sense, making a loss was okay, but stealing from these people means you either have the biggest Courage or a death wish. Looking at this fatso who is as skinny as Mike a few years back, greed had definitely rotted his common sense.
"I would never, just because we had a misunderstanding at your father's wake, you can't accuse me." He immediately started defending himself, rambling with the conviction of Catholic priests preaching scripture when they break every rule there is on a regular basis. "I'm a lot of things, but a thief is not…"
"Alright, alright, calm down, you don't gotta convince me, it's not my money you manage." I quickly interpreted before my ears caught fire from the obvious lies. "Anyways, you wanted my shares. How much?"
"Eh, what do you mean?" He asked after a dumbfounded moment, trying to comprehend my words. "Well, just lend them to me and I'll…"
"I see you're still not serious, since you're acting like we are close enough to be lending each other millions worth in shares." I interrupted before he could finish giving me an offer only 3-year-olds on crack would accept. "Well, I figured I'd give you the chance to make the first offer, but since you're not serious, I'll be accepting outside offers"
"W'what do you mean outside o'offers you can't do that to us." He managed to stammer out, clearly shocked.
"Oh, and why can't I?"
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To Be Continued…