My Mischievous Millionaire

Part 38- Sunday Mourning

ALEX HAYTHAM

The day of the funeral dawned, I tried to take care of as much as I could, yet Christopher was as resilient as ever. My assumption is that he is trying to play off his vulnerable actions from a few nights prior. As a unit, we've gotten much done.

We've opted for a semi-private gathering, just close friends and family. Mr. Topher was beloved by everyone he encountered, he was warm and funny. He held his family dear to his heart, I shudder to envisage how tough all of this might be on Christopher. He's in his study, he's been in there for a while. Should I enter, will he let me?

I walked up the cold, mahogany stairs- apprehensive of walking in on a grieving Christopher. It's indescribable how hard that sight will pierce through my breakable essence. He's burying his father today, which cannot be easy.

I'm here now, all I have to do is knock. My knuckles politely beat on the copiously, wooded door. I garner no response, I try one last time and still achieve nothing. I decide to, tentatively, open the door. I poke my head through the crack and see no sight of Christopher. The room is exceedingly dark, except for one ray of light radiating off his computer screen, against the heavy drapes.

I decide to put it on hibernation mode, when I arrive, I notice his email account is open. This is his personal account, my eyes briefly scan the screen and I detect quite a few recognizable names. My eyes spot the name Stephanie Xenon, I've heard that name before.

Hey Christopher... sorry I to hear about your-

That's all the little preview read, in order to see more I would have to open the message. My attention has been piqued and Christopher opened everything already, he wouldn't know if read it. I click on their conversation only to be blown away by the audacity of her. The message read:

Subject: Sorry Can't Go
Sent at: 21:34pm 1 July 2017
From: StephXenon23433234@gmail.com

Hey Christopher

Sorry to hear about your dad, sucks man. I can't make it to the funeral on Sunday, I have this huge shoot in Italy and as you might know it's really important that I take the necessary steps to push my career forward.

I'm sure you understand, maybe I'll pop in after the funeral for some, you know...fun.

Xoxoxo

Stephanie

I closed her cowardly message in the most rage I've felt in a while, a shoot is more important than the funeral of a friend's father. I suppose she cannot be classified a friend in the first place. My eyes scan the next few emails, they all just seem like apologies. I dare not open anymore, these emails leave me to wonder, why would Christopher invite all these women in the first place?

I hear footsteps and try to leave everything the way I found it before scurrying to the door. I rush out to the hallway and spot Christopher, he's in a black suit, and it hugs his body perfectly. He's hair seems a bit out of place, but it suites him.

He walks up to me and stares me down, I barely want to make eye contact. Seeing the sadness in his eyes would be unbearable.

"Morning, did you just exit my office?" He asks with a gruff voice.

"Um, yes, I poked my head through to see if you were there." I hastily reply, making one attempt to stare into his eyes. They look as if they've lost all fight, but his facial expression shows something stronger. What is he pretending for?