They continued to serve customers, but John's mind was elsewhere. However, he couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty. What did his uncle really want? And how would this new revelation affect his life?
As the last customer of the day exited, John turned to Grace with a forced smile. "Grace, you've been doing an incredible job. I trust you to close up tonight."
Grace looked at him with a mix of pride and concern. "Thanks, John. But is everything alright? You seem a bit off today."
John sighed, leaning against the counter. "Just some old family stuff coming back to haunt me. Nothing you need to worry about."
Grace tilted her head, studying him. "Family stuff, huh? Sounds serious."
"It might be," John admitted. "But for now, let's focus on closing up. You remember the steps you were trained in locking the store after the sales of the day?"
Grace nodded confidently. "Of course. Count the cash, check the inventory, lock the doors, and set the alarm."
"Perfect," John said. "I won't be available tomorrow to help you open. From tomorrow make sure to do your duty and I will be coming to counter check the progress.Let's get this done."
They worked together to close the store, their movements synchronized from months of routine. Grace counted the cash with precision while John double-checked the inventory. The sound of the cash drawer opening and closing was almost soothing, a reminder of their hard-earned progress.
As they finished, Grace handed John the day's earnings. "Here you go. Everything balances out."
"Thanks, Grace," John said, taking the cash. "I'll deposit this $350 first thing tomorrow. Now, let's lock up and call it a night."
They secured the store and set the alarm. Outside, the evening air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees. John took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind.
"Goodnight, John," Grace said, giving him a reassuring smile and moving towards the street canteens to purchase some foodstuffs. "Everything will be alright."
"Goodnight, Grace," John replied. "See you."
He watched as Grace walked away, her silhouette disappearing into the streetlights. With a sigh, he climbed onto his motorcycle and rode home, his thoughts racing. What did his uncle want after all these years? Why now?
Reaching the Washington Complex gate, he greeted the gateman, who opened the gate for him with a nod. "Evening, Mr. John."
"Evening," John replied, forcing a smile. "Thanks."
After parking his motorcycle, he went straight to his apartment. As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his phone buzzed. The screen displayed an incoming call. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the name: Rohit.
John hesitated before answering. "Hello?"
"John, it's Uncle Rohit," came the familiar voice. "How have you been?"
John's grip tightened on the phone. "I've been better. Kindly, what do you want, Rohit?"
"I need you to come back to the mansion," Rohit said, his tone serious. "There's a matter that requires your immediate attention."
John felt his anger rising. "What kind of matter? Why should I even consider coming back after everything you did to me?"
"It's about the marriage arrangement," Rohit explained. "Your parents had an agreement with another family. The preparations are almost complete on their side. They're just waiting for our confirmation."
John's jaw dropped. "Marriage? Are you kidding me? I'm not getting married to someone I don't even know, let alone arranged by you I guess."
"It's not just about you, John," Rohit insisted. "This affects the entire Francisco family. If you don't comply, it will cause a major problem." Rohit had assured everyone that John was always fine and in school. If they find out John had been chased away and lost contact, then Rohit definitely falls into the accusations.
John's mind raced back to the day his parents died. The suspicions, the whispers that it was no accident. A family member had always been a suspect in the greedy fight for wealth and control, but there was never enough evidence to prove anything.
"Why should I trust you?" John snapped. "You treated me like dirt and now you expect me to just go along with this?"
"Listen, John," Rohit said, his voice lowering. "I know my entire family had differences with you, but this is bigger than both of us. If you don't return, it'll not only tarnish our family name but also a huge fine will be imposed on us because it was an agreement sealed a long time ago. We need to show a united front son!."
John felt a surge of conflicting emotions and ended the call. On one hand, he didn't want anything to do with his uncle or the family that had caused him so much pain. On the other, the lack of transparent investigation into his parents' deaths and the potential for further scandal made him uneasy.
"What do they really want?" John muttered to himself, pacing the room. "Why now? After all these years?"
John couldn't stand still. He decided to go back to the shop to buy some supper. It was already 9 o'clock at night, and many shops were starting to close. The air was cool, and the streets were less busy, with only a few people milling about. Street Lights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement.
He walked past several closing shops, their owners tidying up and shutting doors. The bustling energy of the day was fading, replaced by a serene calmness. John found a small grocery store that was still open, the neon "OPEN" sign buzzing faintly. He stepped inside, greeted by the warm, inviting smell of fresh bread and the soft hum of a refrigerator.
"Evening," the shopkeeper said, a middle-aged man with a kind face. "How can I help you?"
"Just looking for something for supper," John replied, glancing around the store. He spotted a packet of pre-made food – chicken and rice – something easy to prepare. He grabbed a loaf of bread and some fruit as well.
"That's all?" the shopkeeper asked, ringing up the items.
"Yeah, that's it," John said, reaching for his wallet. The total came to $150. He handed over a two hundred-dollar bill and waited for his change.
"I was almost closing up the grocery. You are lucky!" The shopkeeper said.
"Thanks," John said, taking his change and the bag of groceries. He headed back to his apartment, his mind still spinning with thoughts of his uncle and the sudden reappearance of the Rohit Francisco's family.
Once home, he set the groceries on the counter and took a moment to breathe. The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional sound of cars passing by outside. John heated up the chicken and rice in the microwave, the mechanical whirring and beeping a stark contrast to the chaos in his head.
As he ate, he made a mental list of principles he would stand by. He wasn't going to be forced into anything. He was his own person now, and he had built a life for himself. If the Francisco's wanted to bring this issue to court, so be it. John was ready to fight back.
Finishing his meal, John felt a mix of determination and exhaustion. He cleaned up and made his way to the couch, sinking into the cushions. He grabbed his phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media, but his mind kept drifting back to Rohit's call and the memories it dredged up.
He remembered his mother, Isabella, and how she used to make everything better with her laughter and warmth. She had a way of turning even the darkest days into something bearable. John missed her terribly. The thought of her brought a tear to his eye, but he quickly brushed it away. He needed to stay strong.
However, John felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. He knew the days ahead would be challenging, but he also felt more prepared to face whatever came his way. He locked the door and headed to bed, his mind finally starting to quiet down.
As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he thought about his parents and the legacy they had left him. He wasn't going to let the Francisco's dictate his future. He would honor his parents' memory by living life on his own terms.
Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, there was a knock on the door. John's eyes snapped open, his heart racing again. Who could it be this time?
He got up and cautiously approached the door, peering through the peephole. He saw a figure he didn't recognize – a tall, imposing man with a stern expression." Who is it?" John called out, his voice steady.