Leonard Chester sat in the back of his chauffeured car, his expression blank as he watched the news report about Bo Rulan's recent passing on the tablet in front of him.
"Entrepreneur and heiress Bo Rulan recently passed away. Funeral proceedings are being held by her family which will then be followed by the reading of her will., which begs the question who will inherit her fortune?" The reporter's voice filled the car, detailing the funeral proceedings and the impending reading of Bo's will.
Leonard's onyx eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed the information, his features betraying a mix of disinterest and discomfort.
With a flick of his hand, Leonard turned off the tablet, casting the news report into silence. He tossed the device onto the seat beside him, the screen now dark against the plush leather interior of the car. The weight of the news settled heavily upon him as he adjusted his black tuxedo, the fabric feeling stifling against his skin.
Leonard's mind wandered as the car continued on its journey to the Bo family estate. He had intentionally missed Bo Rulan's funeral, preferring to mourn her passing in private rather than amidst the clamor of her so-called family. But now, he found himself reluctantly drawn back into the fold, summoned to the reading of her will.
Despite the rumors of assets left to him, Leonard had no interest in Bo Rulan's fortune. The ache of loss that gnawed at his heart was a wound that no amount of money could heal. He had already lost what he wanted most in the world, and the thought of inheriting Bo's wealth held little appeal.
As the car approached the grand gates of the estate, Leonard's jaw tensed with apprehension. The sight of reporters and paparazzi waiting eagerly outside only served to deepen his sense of unease. He had no desire to be caught up in the spectacle of Bo Rulan's passing, nor did he relish the thought of facing her hypocritical family members.
With a heavy sigh, Leonard watched as the gates swung open to admit the car, the sound of the engine drowned out by the clicking of cameras and the murmur of voices. The car wound its way through the manicured grounds of the estate, coming to a stop in front of the imposing Bo family home.
With a resigned exhale, Leonard emerged from the car, his steps heavy with reluctance. "Right this way, Mr. Chester," Assistant Simons intoned, her demeanor as somber as the occasion demanded. Leonard followed her silently, a shadow in the wake of her purposeful stride, as they traversed the threshold into the living room where the solemn proceedings would unfold.
"Hello, Mr. Chester," Bo Wanwan's voice carried a note of sorrow as she greeted him with a sad smile. But Leonard offered no response, his gaze fixed ahead as he made his way to his designated seat. Bo Wanwan settled awkwardly nearby, her attempt at cordiality met with his stoic silence, while discreet disapproval rippled through the room from some of the other guests.
Surveying the assembled company, Leonard noted the familiar faces among them. Michaela and Ruby, steadfast friends of Bo Rulan, sat poised and composed, their grief veiled behind a facade of composure. Bo Rulan's father and stepmother occupied a place of prominence, their expressions inscrutable beneath the weight of their loss. Grandfather Bo, a figure of dignified aging, presided over the gathering with quiet grace. In the corner, a mysterious black-haired stranger observed silently, an enigma amidst the familial tableau. Assistant Simons, ever the loyal aide, stood sentinel by the door, her impassive demeanor belying the turmoil within.
As the lawyer entered, his presence commanding attention, he wasted no time in addressing the solemn purpose that had brought them all together. "I am the lawyer representing the deceased Miss Bo Rulan. Before we proceed with the reading of her last will, Miss Rulan has requested that we watch a farewell video she prepared," he announced, producing a small envelope containing a flash drive, a tangible link to the departed heiress's final wishes.
The question lingered in the minds of all present: how long had Bo Rulan been preparing for her death, that she had her will and farewell video ready? The lawyer swiftly connected the flash drive to the large flat-screen TV, and soon Bo Rulan's image illuminated the room. Her usual stern countenance was replaced by a gentle smile, her youthful face radiating with an ethereal beauty that belied her age of only 25 years. Leonard leaned forward instinctively, as if drawn by some invisible thread, longing to bridge the gap between himself and the woman he once knew.
During their encounters at business meetings, Bo Rulan had never deigned to offer him even the faintest hint of a smile. Yet here she was, smiling warmly in her farewell video, a bitter irony not lost on Leonard. "Hello everyone, if you're watching this, it means I'm dead. Which is sad, just thinking about it. Don't tell me how I died, just kidding you can't tell me anyway because I'm already dead and this is a video." Bo Rulan's voice rang out in a cheerful, lighthearted manner, as if discussing the weather rather than her own demise. The atmosphere in the living room, however, was far from buoyant; a somber pall had settled over the gathering.
"Attorney Jacobs, thank you for your service and for delivering this video," Bo Rulan continued in the recording, acknowledging the lawyer's presence with a gracious nod. Onscreen, Bo Rulan reached for a piece of paper, her eyes momentarily leaving the camera before returning with a nervous laugh. "I swear I didn't write down what I was going to say, it's just a list of names," she confessed, her laughter tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Leonard couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow at the sight of her so carefree and unguarded, a stark contrast to the guarded woman he had known since their university days. It troubled him deeply that the last glimpse of her true self he would ever have was in this farewell video.
"Let's start with Mother and Father," Bo Rulan's voice resonated from the screen, her words heavy with remorse. "I'm sorry you had to have a child like me. I'm sorry for all the times I made you worry about me and my actions. I was just trying to fulfill my role in life." A melancholic smile graced her lips as she spoke, her sorrow palpable even through the medium of a pre-recorded message. Mrs. Bo couldn't contain her grief, tears streaming down her cheeks as Mr. Bo enveloped her in a comforting embrace, his own expression etched with sadness. Grandfather Bo's eyes mirrored the weight of his granddaughter's words, a silent acknowledgment of the pain she had carried.
Leonard couldn't help but scoff inwardly at the display of familial anguish. "Where was all this love when she was alive?" he couldn't help but wonder, his cynicism gnawing at the edges of his conscience.
"Wanwan, I'm sorry about all the times I hurt you," Bo Rulan's voice softened as she addressed her sister, her words a tender plea for forgiveness. "I never really wanted to, and I hope you can forgive me for my actions. All I hope is that I made your story as memorable as possible." Bo Wanwan's sob echoed through the room, her boyfriend offering solace as she wept. Leonard felt a surge of revulsion at the spectacle before him, the hypocrisy of it all churning his stomach.
"Sister," Bo Wanwan uttered softly amidst her tears, her grief raw and unfiltered. Leonard's gaze flickered to the couple, his disdain for their theatrics evident in the curl of his lip.
"Pearl, Michaela, and Ruby, I'm sorry but I won't be able to make it to any of our meetups, but please don't replace me," Bo Rulan's voice carried a wistful note, a fleeting moment of levity amidst the somber proceedings. Yet, Leonard couldn't help but admire the stoicism of Michaela and Ruby, their unwavering composure a stark contrast to the feigned emotions of the others. "At least those two were genuine," Leonard mused bitterly, his skepticism casting a shadow over the poignant moment unfolding before him.
r gratitude tinged with a sense of melancholy. Leonard's eyes flicked to the black-haired man whom he now recognized as Caesar, noting the deepening frown that creased his brow.
"And lastly, Leo, I'm sorry for everything," Bo Rulan's voice softened, her words heavy with remorse. "What I wanted to say to you the most is, I love you with all my heart." The finality of her declaration hung in the air as the video came to an abrupt end, leaving a profound silence in its wake.
All eyes turned to Leonard, awaiting his reaction. But he remained resolutely silent, his head bowed in bitter contemplation. The bitterness that welled within him was palpable, a gnawing ache that twisted in his gut. He couldn't shake the resentment that surged within him—why did she wait until she was gone to utter those words? When she was alive, when he needed to hear them most, she had remained silent.
The weight of her final confession settled upon him like a heavy shroud, suffocating him with its implications. Love, now nothing more than a hollow echo of what could have been, taunted him from beyond the grave.