The drive home was heavy, the kind of heavy that pressed into your chest and refused to let go. Justin sat in the backseat of the car, the same damn seat he'd been in all day, staring out the window at the endless gray sky.
The rain had stopped, but the clouds hung low, like they were waiting for their next chance to fuck up the day.
The woman—still by his side, of course—kept sneaking glances at him. It was like she was trying to telepathically check if he was okay. Spoiler: he wasn't.
But she didn't push him. She just kept tapping her fingers lightly on the edge of the seat, the rhythm almost soothing. At some point, she sighed and leaned back, muttering something like, "We'll get through this." Justin didn't react. He couldn't even tell if it was meant for him or her.
When they pulled up to the house, it felt surreal. The mansion stood tall and pristine, just like it always did, like nothing had happened. The ivy on the fence swayed gently in the breeze, the fountain in the driveway still doing its little show. Everything was too normal, and it pissed him off.
Justin stepped out of the car, his legs stiff and his body sore from sitting too long.
The staff was already waiting by the door, all of them dressed in black and looking like they didn't know where to put their hands. One of them opened the door, bowing slightly as if this was just another day.
But what caught Justin off guard was the group of students gathered just outside the house, their familiar faces a stark contrast to the unfamiliar weight of grief surrounding him. Most of them were from his class—kids he saw every day, joked with, sometimes argued with, but never thought he'd see like this.
One of the girls, Maria, was the first to approach. She hesitated for a second before throwing her arms around him. "Justin," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say."
Before he could even process her hug, another followed. Then another. It was like a chain reaction, a wave of arms wrapping around him in ones and twos, their voices overlapping with soft apologies and awkward attempts at comfort.
"You don't deserve this, man," someone said, clapping him lightly on the back. "This shit is unfair."
"If you need anything—anything—just call me," another chimed in, their words hurried and nervous.
One of his closer friends, Adam, stepped forward last. He didn't say much, just grabbed Justin in a firm hug that lingered longer than the rest. "We've got your back, okay?" he said quietly. "Whatever you need man, as always."
Justin stood there, stiff as a statue, letting it all happen. He didn't know what to say, didn't even know if he could say anything without breaking. The woman by his side offered a small, grateful smile to the students, her calm presence somehow filling in the gaps where Justin couldn't.
When the last hug was given, the group lingered awkwardly for a moment before stepping aside, letting Justin and the woman pass through the open doors. Their words echoed faintly in his ears as he walked inside, a strange mixture of warmth and emptiness settling in his chest.
The woman walked beside him, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. "Take a moment if you need to," she said quietly, but he ignored her and kept moving.
The house felt colder than usual, emptier. His parents' absence was so loud it was deafening. Every corner, every piece of furniture screamed them.
The dining table where his dad used to sit, barking orders about the food. The living room where his mom would curl up with a book. Even the damn chandelier overhead felt like it belonged to them more than him.
He went to the bedroom and changed into another dry suit, he walked back, there were people lingering in the main area but he didn't stop walking until they reached the study.
It was where the will would be read—because, of course, his dad had a "study" like some old-school billionaire villain. Justin sat down on one of the leather chairs, leaning back as if it would somehow swallow him whole.
The lawyer arrived a few minutes later, a man in his fifties with perfectly combed hair and a briefcase that probably cost more than most people's cars. He introduced himself—some name Justin immediately recalled, someone he knew—and he pulled out a stack of papers that looked like they weighed more than the guy's ego.
"Thank you for gathering here today," the lawyer began, his voice calm and professional, like this wasn't the most fucked-up situation ever. "We're here to honor the wishes of Mr. and Mrs. Black, as outlined in their last will and testament."
Justin barely listened as the guy droned on, listing off legal jargon and bullshit that didn't mean much to him. The woman sat beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable.
"Justin Black," the lawyer said, finally addressing him directly. "As the sole heir to your parents' estate, you will inherit their assets, including this property, their businesses, and all financial holdings."
"No shit," Justin thought bitterly. He didn't need a fucking lawyer to tell him he was the only one left.
There was more, of course. Some charity donations, a few minor bequests to extended family and close friends. Justin nodded along, pretending to care, but his mind kept wandering.
When it was finally over, the lawyer closed his briefcase with a satisfying click. "If you have any questions or need assistance managing the estate, my firm is at your disposal."
"Thanks," the woman said, standing up and shaking his hand. Justin didn't move.
Once the lawyer left, the silence settled again, heavy and suffocating. The woman turned to Justin, her expression soft but serious. "That's it, then. You're in charge now."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. In charge? He was barely holding himself together, and now he was supposed to run his parents' empire? It felt like a cruel joke.
Justin let out a shaky breath, rubbing his face with both hands. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. It was all he could manage.
The woman didn't say anything. She just placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm but comforting. It was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.