I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

Alexander Blackwell followed Sebastian down the opulent hallway, each step echoing in the vast expanse of the Blackwell estate. The mansion was a testament to Cassius Blackwell's immense wealth, with its sleek black marble floors, towering columns, and walls adorned with priceless art from every corner of the globe. The faint scent of cedarwood and fresh flowers lingered in the air, a reminder of the family's unmatched extravagance.

As they walked, the staff seemed to move around them in a synchronized ballet. Maids, butlers, and attendants all paused in their duties as Alexander passed, each bowing their heads slightly, acknowledging his presence with the utmost reverence. Alexander didn't respond to their gestures. His eyes were distant, focused solely on the path ahead, his steps purposeful.

Sebastian's voice cut through the silence. "The Archbishop from the Catholic Church is already here, sir, ready to lead the funeral," he said softly, as if aware that any mention of the ceremony might stir something deeper in Alexander. "Miss Caroline is on her way while Mrs riverplate and her husband with Your mother, Mrs. Usher, arrived earlier, and Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Richmond are already at the venue."

At the mention of his mother, Alexander paused just for a moment—an imperceptible hesitation. His gaze flickered, but he quickly masked it with indifference, continuing down the corridor. Sebastian, ever observant, continued without missing a beat. "We've adhered to your request, sir. The funeral will be a small, private affair. As you wished, no grand gestures—just a quiet, respectful sendoff."

Alexander didn't respond. His face was as unreadable as ever, his thoughts hidden behind the cool mask of his demeanor. They reached the massive front doors, and with a simple gesture, the heavy wooden doors were opened to reveal the helipad, a sleek black Airbus H160 waiting, the family crest emblazoned on its side in glossy red—a symbol of the Blackwell legacy.

Standing there, waiting for him, were three large, imposing bodyguards. They were dressed in dark suits, their eyes sharp, watching his every move. One of them spoke into his mic. "Black 2 is on the move," he said, the words coming out crisp and professional.

The lead bodyguard, a towering man with a no-nonsense attitude, turned to Alexander. "The flight is ready, sir" Given the layout of the estate, they would need to take the helicopter to the venue.

Without a word, Alexander nodded and stepped forward, climbing into the helicopter. Sebastian followed closely behind, and soon they were airborne, the island sprawling beneath them in all its grandeur. The massive estate faded into the distance, giving way to the private event hall Alexander had chosen to host his father's funeral. The helicopter touched down smoothly, the blades winding down with a steady hum.

The event hall was a masterpiece in itself. It was an imposing structure, designed with a blend of modern elegance and understated luxury. The exterior was all polished stone and reflective glass, blending seamlessly with the landscape of the island. As Alexander stepped out, the sight of it hit him with a strange finality, as if his father's life—his empire—had all led to this very moment.

Inside, the space was stark but beautiful, with a soft ambient light casting shadows across the high ceilings. At the far end of the room stood his father's body, laid out in a simple, dignified display. The atmosphere was heavy, the air thick with mourning but devoid of unnecessary opulence. There were only five guests present, all in somber black attire, their eyes fixed on Alexander as he entered. Some faces were marked by melancholy, others by unreadable expressions, but there was no mistaking the weight of the room's silence.

Alexander walked to the front, his steps measured, his gaze focused on the body of Cassius Blackwell. The man before him looked almost as if he were simply sleeping—a handsome, dignified figure, dressed in a black suit with a subtle hint of red, a final tribute to his father's favorite colors. His silver hair was immaculately styled, his face etched with the years of power and success.

For a moment, Alexander stood motionless, staring at the man who had shaped so much of his life. His father. He couldn't help but feel the pull of the past, the weight of the legacy that now lay on his shoulders. But there was no time for sentiment. He turned and took a seat at the far end of the room, his eyes steely, awaiting the next part of the ceremony.

The Archbishop, an elderly man with a calm, measured presence, stepped forward to begin the service. His voice resonated through the room, steady and reverent, as he led the small group in prayer and reflection.

When the service concluded, Alexander found himself standing once again, his posture impeccable, but his mind far away. The guests began to stir, the quiet murmurs of gratitude filling the air. As they walked toward the helipad for the final part of the ritual, Alexander spoke briefly with the Archbishop. "Thank you for such a beautiful service," he said quietly, his voice as cool and controlled as ever.

The Archbishop nodded, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "It was an honor, Mr. Blackwell."

As the final helicopter whisked the archbishop away from the island, Alexander remained behind with the five guests and Sebastian. The wind picked up, but the scene was unhurried, as if time had decided to stand still for a brief moment.

Then, just as Alexander thought he might be left to reflect in silence, one of the guests stepped forward. She was an older, middle-aged woman, regal and composed, but there was a softness in her eyes—eyes that, despite the years, held a striking resemblance to Alexander's own. She stepped forward, her hands outstretched, but just as she was about to speak, Mr. Baldwin, a lawyer in his late fifties, interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwell," he said, his voice clipped, the tension palpable. "Given the nature of things, the company's legal matters... I need to read Mr. Blackwell's will now."

The mention of the will silenced the group. The air seemed to thicken, and all eyes turned to Alexander. He simply nodded, his expression unchanged.

"Let's move inside," Alexander said, his voice calm. "We'll talk in the main building."

A helicopter took them back to the main estate, where they were escorted into a private lounge. As they settled into the plush seating, Mr. Baldwin cleared his throat, his demeanor turning formal.

"Even though Miss Caroline isn't here, I will begin reading Mr. Blackwell's will," he said, his gaze sweeping the room. "I will make sure to read it again separately for her."

The chapter closed as Mr. Baldwin prepared to read the will, the tension in the room palpable as everyone waited for what was to come.