My Relief

"It's been a week since your father's passing, and I want to express my heartfelt sympathies," Barrister Jackson said to Andrew. "That said, there's something very important you need to be aware of."

Andrew was the only child of his late parents-a man known for his pride and a reputation for being disrespectful, especially toward women.

Barrister Jackson serves as the personal lawyer for Andrew's father and is responsible for ensuring that his legal affairs are managed and executed properly.

"Alright, what is this important thing?" Andrew asked, narrowing his eyes. "Come to think of it, I'm sure my father must have left a Will. Is that what this is about?"

"Exactly," Barrister Jackson replied firmly. "It's crucial that you understand everything, young man."

"Hold on... I don't understand," Andrew stammered, his brows furrowing as confusion spread across his face. "Why do you sound like there's a problem?"

"Well, let's just say it's not exactly a problem-technically," Barrister Jackson replied, sitting upright as he clasped his hands together. "But it might be a problem for you."

"According to your father's Will," Barrister Jackson explained calmly, "under no circumstances are his companies and properties to be handed over to you in full, unless you are happily married and have a child, as proof that the marriage is genuine."

"What?! Are you two joking or something?" Andrew shouted, his voice rising with anger and disbelief.

"No! This can't be real," Andrew yelled, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and shock. "How could my father do this to me-his only son, his only child? This is impossible!"

"Please, tell me this is just a prank, and let's move on from this," Andrew said, his voice trembling as tears welled up in his eyes.

"No, Andrew, your father meant every word," Barrister Jackson responded, his tone unwavering. "My advice is to honor his wishes and follow them closely."

Andrew wandered through the sitting room, his expression one of confusion, grief, and sadness. Staggering towards the couch, he sank down, his gaze fixed on the beautiful, intricate rug in the center of the room. Tears began to fall, silently streaking down his face.

Andrew's mind raced in circles, consumed by uncertainty as he tried to make sense of what steps to take next.

"You know what, Barrister, just leave. I'll talk to you when I'm ready and feel better to have this conversation," Andrew said, his voice breaking as he slowly lifted his tear-streaked face.

"I understand, Andrew. I'll take my leave," Barrister Jackson said gently, walking toward the door. "But before I go, remember this-before you make any decision, take time to truly weigh the consequences." With those words, he stepped outside and made his way to his car.

"Ahhh! What have I done to deserve this?!" Andrew cried out, his voice cracking. "What kind of cruel, senseless punishment is this?"

"How on earth am I supposed to truly love a woman now?!" Andrew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "And to make it worse... we're having a child together!" He began pacing the sitting room, his voice rising with every word. "No, no, no-this is insane. I'm losing my mind..."

"No... this can't be happening," he whispered, almost to himself. "I didn't see any of this coming." Still murmuring, he turned and walked out of the sitting room, each step heavy with disbelief, heading straight to his car as if escape might bring clarity.

He yanked open the door to his car, slamming it shut with a deafening crash. Without a second thought, he floored the gas pedal, speeding off with reckless fury, his mind a whirlwind of anger and frustration-driving with no particular destination, just needing to escape.

He drove until he came across a bar not too far from his house. With a quick pull into the parking spot, he slammed the car door shut and stormed inside. His face twisted in frustration, and he hissed under his breath, drawing curious looks from everyone in the bar.

His tense body language made everyone second-guess whether he was mentally fit to be in a place like that.

"What the hell are you all staring at?!" Andrew snapped, his voice seething with anger. "Are you all out of your minds?"

"I'm really sorry about that, sir. It won't happen again," Pamela said, her tone apologetic yet upbeat. "Please, feel free to take a seat in the VIP section." She approached him with a friendly smile, guiding him to his spot.

A lavishly furnished, air-conditioned bar featuring sleek, glass-top tables and plush, glittering couches, reserved exclusively for the affluent clientele who can indulge in the finest, most expensive wines.

Pamela, a waitress at the bar, is admired for her friendly and gracious demeanor, extending her warmth both at work and in her personal life. However, lurking beneath her charming exterior is a more selfish side, marked by greed and deceit.

"I sincerely apologize for what happened earlier," Pamela said, offering another apology. "More importantly, welcome! What can I get for you, sir?" she asked, approaching him with a warm smile, her hands gracefully positioned behind her back.

"Why are you smiling?" Andrew snapped, his voice rising in anger. "Do I look like I'm here for jokes?!" He yelled, glaring at Pamela.

"I'm truly sorry, sir," Pamela said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. "I was only trying to make you feel welcome."

"Enough with the apologies, I don't have time for this," Andrew said curtly. "Just bring me a bottle of Taylor Fladgate 40-Year-Old Tawny Port," he commanded.

"Of course, sir. Please hold on for just a moment, and I'll have your order ready in no time," Pamela says, hurrying off to attend to Andrew's request.

Andrew sat with his arms folded tightly, legs crossed, and his foot nervously tapping. His palms were slick with sweat as he anxiously pondered his problem, all while waiting for his order.

Pamela set the wine and glass on the table with a thoughtful smile. "Your order, sir," she said. "Is there anything else you'd like?"

"No, you can go. I'll let you know if I need anything else," Andrew responded, his tone quick and decisive.

"Alright, sir," Pamela replied, then paused for a moment. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping-I'm just a waitress, I know-but it's hard for me to ignore when someone looks so troubled. Would you mind telling me what's wrong, sir?" she asked gently.

Andrew slowly lifted his weary, tear-streaked face, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy with emotion. He shot a glare at Pamela, his voice trembling as it rose, laced with raw frustration and pain.

"What's your problem, huh? Girl, lady-whatever the hell you are!" he snapped, his words cracking under the weight of his grief. "Just leave me alone!"