The Tycoons little redhead

The rain poured relentlessly, soaking through the black fabric of my dress. I stood at the edge of the grave, my heels sinking to the ground, watching as the man was lowered into the earth. My father.

Around me, my stepmother and half-siblings wept inconsolably.

Lydia Tucker, my step mother, cried relentlessly. Wearing a long black gown with lace patterns on the sleeves, the fabric clinging to her as the rain soaked through. A black veil covering her smudged makeup as she leaned heavily on Sophia who feared she might faint again.

My little sister Sofia, the youngest, clung onto mother as tears streamed down her eyes uncontrollably. She wore a short black dress with a wide-brimmed hat that hid her swollen eyes. Her high heels kept sinking into the muddy ground, but she didn't seem to care, only sobbing loudly as my father lay fully in the ground.

Luca on the other hand is the oldest of us all, standing tall behind my mother and sister. His sharp black suit, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and tall frame, made him look more like he was attending a business meeting than a funeral. With his tie slightly loosened he stared at the grave in silence, his clenched fists betrayed the tension he tried so hard to hide.

I envied them for their tears. Mine refused to fall.

My father was a hard man, unyielding, ambitious, always measuring my worth against impossible standards. I couldn't say I loved him, not the way they did, but I respected him enough to grieve silently for him. He had been a force of nature, larger than life, and now, he was six feet under, left to rot away.

"Quincy?"

my stepmother choked out, her face was streaked with mascara,

"Are you alright my dear."

She asked, concern in her voice

I stayed silent, my mind battling with telling her how I couldn't process the whole event playing before me or to blame his ambition for getting him killed.

"I'm alright mother."

I finally said, taking up her handkerchief to whip off her mascara. Lydia was indeed a beautiful woman but it was hard for me to love a woman who took my mother's place.

As I turned my gaze away, my eyes landed on a figure standing under a black umbrella at the edge of the crowd. His broad physical features weren't hard to decipher, Reed Morales. The sight of him nagged in my chest, his presence here felt wrong to me. He was my father's rival and they had been at each other's throat since the day I knew about his existence. His existence that had defined years of our lives.

And yet, here he was, paying his respects like he hadn't spent years trying to crush my father's business and legacy.

"What are you doing here?"

The words left my lips before I could stop them. Reed's piercing blue gaze met mine,

"To pay my respects,"

he said simply, his voice smooth and detached, his gaze unfazed

"You hated him,"

I spat, my voice trembling, my rage simmering.

"You had no respect for him in life, so don't pretend now."

He stepped closer, the rain glistening on his expensive shoes.

"I know you don't like me Ms. Tucker and so did your father."

He began, an inch separating us

"But I never hated him, not once. He was a worthy opponent. I came because I know what loss feels like."

I wanted to scream, to claw that indifferent expression off his face,

"You don't belong here."

I bite down hard on my lips, fighting the urge to slap him

"You need to leave, your not welcome here"

I urged before walking back to my family.

---

The funeral ended in a blur. The priest's final words, the shovels of dirt hitting the coffin, the rain that never ceased. All this felt like a dream I needed to wake up from.

As the crowd began to disperse, I turned to leave, my steps heavy and aimless. Exhaustion doing the best at slowing me down even at my lowest.

"Miss Quincy Tucker?"

I froze,

Two officers stood a few feet away, their expressions unreadable,

I swallowed at the awkwardness of being approached by people of the law while trying to steady myself.

"Yes?"

I asked, my voice coming out more strained than I intended.

"We need to speak with you,"

one of them said.

"It's about Emily Wilson"

Emily. My stomach sank. I knew Emily Wilson, the star rising actress and model in the modeling industry. She was to work as a model for my Father's new launch in his business and the last time I heard from her was the day I was called that my father was dead.

"What about her?"

I asked,

The second officer stepped forward, his eyes scanning me.

"We're investigating her murder, Miss Tucker."

"Murder?!"

I question, my stomach knotting

"Yes, her body was found four days and her last location was at the industry"

I stood dumbfounded under the rain,

" Can you tell us what you know about her in the days leading up to her death?"

I blinked, taken aback.

"I don't know anything. I barely knew her personally."

The officer raised an eyebrow.

"So you never met with her before she died?"

I shook my head.

"No. No, I didn't."

"Interesting,"

the officer said, his voice growing more insistent.

"Because we have evidence placing you at one of her last known locations. Why were you there, Miss Tucker?"

" T-there?!There where ?!, you mean the industry. Working of course "

My heart pounded in my chest. The situation becoming confusing,

The first officer exchanged a look with his partner.

"We've received reports of a confrontation between you and Emily a few days before her death. Can you explain that?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My mind raced, trying to piece together everything. There had been a disagreement, yes. A harsh exchange betweens us over simple matters. But murder? I never had a reason to want to kill her or anybody. Yet their questions made it harder to deny that they were connecting the dots between me and her death.

"You need to come with us,"

the first officer said, his voice cold now.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Emily Wilson."

I stumbled back, shaking my head, my chest tight with panic.

"No, no! This is a mistake!"

I yelled, trying to back away.

"I didn't do it! I swear I didn't kill her!"

The officers moved forward, their hands firm as they grabbed my arms.

"Please cooperate ma'am,"

the second officer said.

I turned desperately to my family for help. My stepmother's face was frozen in shock, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak but couldn't. Her trembling hands reached out for balance, but before anyone could react, her eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the floor in a faint.

Sophia let out a startled gasp, her wide eyes darting from me to our unconscious stepmother.

"Mom!"

she cried, but she didn't move, too paralyzed to act.

Luca stood like a statue, his face pale and drained of all color. His eyes met mine briefly, full of guilt and fear, but he didn't step forward. He didn't say a word. And as soon as our eyes met he looked away.

And then, I saw him.

Reed. He stood at the edge of the crowd, watching everything unfold. His umbrella was still raised, his expression unreadable, as if none of this affected him. He didn't speak, didn't move, just stared at me, impassive.

"Take her away,"

the officer ordered. The cuffs clicked into place around my wrists before leading me away. I felt the weight of betrayal, the shock, the helplessness. All those emotions at once drained my blood cold.

For the first time in my life, I realized I was truly alone.