I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 83: Alexander Day Four III

A few hours later, Alexander, his body still conditioned by years of strict routine, woke up precisely at 7:30 AM. His eyes fluttered open to the soft light of the morning creeping through the thick curtains. For a moment, he simply lay there, still submerged in the remnants of sleep. But then, the conversation with his father came rushing back to him. What was it that they had been talking about last night? The words floated at the edges of his mind, elusive, refusing to take shape. The thought lingered, nagging him as he pushed himself to sit up, his muscles stiff from a restless night.

Without wasting any more time on idle speculation, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, stretching his body into its usual, disciplined movements. He made his way to the bathroom, the hum of the house barely audible.

He brushed his teeth mechanically, the minty taste filling his mouth as he tried to focus on the task at hand. His father’s words echoed in his mind, but the more he tried to make sense of them, the further they slipped away. Frustration simmered beneath his calm exterior as he rinsed his mouth, his thoughts too tangled to make sense of anything.

Once he finished, he exited the bathroom, his heart still unsettled. He needed to talk to his father again. He needed to pick up where they left off, to gain the clarity he sought, and perhaps more importantly, the authority to move forward with his plans. There was no time to waste; the world was waiting, and so was he.

As he made his way down the hallway, a strange sense of unease settled over him. Normally, by this hour, the house would already be buzzing with activity—maids going about their daily tasks, the soft shuffle of footsteps on marble floors, the clink of silverware as the staff prepared breakfast. But today, there was none of that. The estate felt strangely silent, eerily so, as if something was missing. He shook the feeling off, unwilling to entertain thoughts of anything out of the ordinary. He had more pressing matters at hand.

When he reached the front of his father’s room, his steps slowed. He noticed a small group of maids gathered outside the door, their heads lowered in quiet conversation. The door to his father’s room was wide open, a sight that immediately set him on edge. Something was wrong.

"What’s going on?" Alexander asked, his voice even but laced with a hint of confusion and urgency.

The maids, startled at the sound of his voice, snapped to attention. Their eyes widened, and in a synchronized motion, they bowed their heads in respect. But their actions did little to alleviate the unease clawing at his insides. He stood there for a moment, waiting for an explanation, his patience thinning by the second.

But no explanation came. The maids remained silent, their heads bent low, their eyes not meeting his. The tension in the air was palpable, heavy with something unsaid.

His gaze sharpened, frustration gnawing at him. This silence—this hesitation—was unlike anything he had ever encountered. "What’s happened?" he repeated, his voice growing colder, more demanding.

Still, there was no response.

Alexander’s frustration boiled over. Without another word, he pushed past the maids and stepped into his father’s room. The air inside felt thick, oppressive. His father’s room had always been a place of order and precision, every item in its place, every corner polished to perfection. But today, there was a heaviness in the atmosphere, an unfamiliar weight that made him pause. The room was too still, too silent.

His eyes roamed the space, but they quickly settled on the figures at the bedside: Sebastian, the butler, and Richmond, his uncle. They both stood there, unmoving, as if they were frozen in place.

"What happened?" Alexander’s voice cut through the tense silence again, low and steady, but carrying an undercurrent of urgency that was impossible to ignore.

Sebastian turned toward him, his face pale and stricken, clearly caught off guard. The butler opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. For a moment, he seemed to falter, unsure of how to deliver the news.

Before Sebastian could regain his composure, Richmond’s voice filled the void, his words carrying a disbelief that lingered in the room long after they were spoken.

"He’s gone."

Alexander’s brow furrowed at the words. They didn’t make sense. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe them.

Without thinking, he moved faster, his pace quickening as he made his way toward the bed. His heart pounded in his chest, a strange mix of fear and confusion flooding his senses. He needed to see for himself.

Richmond’s voice followed him, heavier now, almost as if it had become a weight too great to bear. "He’s dead."

The room seemed to tilt beneath him. Cold panic swept over Alexander, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to blur at the edges. He reached the bed and finally looked down at his father.

Cassius Blackwell lay there, his once-imposing figure now still and lifeless. There was a peacefulness to his expression, an almost serene calm that seemed so out of place given the turmoil inside Alexander’s chest. A faint smile lingered on his lips, as if he had found peace in the very end. But it was the absence of life that sent a cold shiver down Alexander’s spine. His father was gone, and with him, a part of Alexander’s world had slipped away.

"Master Alexander, I am so—" Sebastian began, stepping forward, his voice thick with emotion.

But Alexander wasn’t listening. He cut him off, his tone cold and unforgiving. "Leave."

Sebastian hesitated, visibly shaken by the harshness in Alexander’s voice. He stood there for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed, but the command was unmistakable.

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"Leave," Alexander repeated, his voice darkening with an edge that sent a chill through the room. He locked eyes with Sebastian, his gaze unyielding.

When no one moved fast enough, his voice rose, now sharper, more commanding. "Everyone. Leave."

The maids, startled by the intensity of his words, scrambled to exit the room. Sebastian adjusted his uniform nervously and gave a stiff bow before following them out. Richmond lingered by the door, watching his nephew closely. For a long moment, their eyes locked, and Richmond opened his mouth to speak, but after a brief pause, he simply shook his head, choosing not to argue. He left, the sound of his footsteps retreating into the distance.

And there Alexander stood, alone by his father’s side.

The silence was suffocating, oppressive, and yet it was all he could bear in that moment. He stared down at his father’s lifeless body, his heart heavy with a whirlwind of emotions that churned within him. Cassius Blackwell—his father, the man who had shaped him, who had pushed him, even when the weight of their complex relationship had made it all feel like too much. The one person who had both guided and limited him.

While grief and sorrow swept over him, a faint foreign feeling crept in—one that Alexander instinctively tried to suppress but couldn’t completely ignore.

Relief.

The feeling was foreign to him, unwelcome, and yet it pulsed through him like a dark current. His father had become the one to hold him back, to question his every decision, to weigh the risks and the consequences of his ambition. Cassius had been the anchor, the only thing keeping Alexander from diving headfirst into the abyss of his desires.

But now, with him gone, the chains that had bound Alexander were gone too.

For the past year, Cassius had grown increasingly cautious, burdened by his own awakening morality and doubts about the path his son was on. The risks, the power struggles, the choices Alexander had been prepared to make—all of it had unsettled him. His father had begun to see the chaos that Alexander was willing to unleash. The old man had been a safeguard, a check on his son’s ruthless ambition. He was protecting the world From his sons bottomless Ambitions

But now, the very world he had been protecting made a critical mistake.

It had taken his father—the one man who had understood him, the one who had shaped him, the one who had both been the only person in his life he truly respected and feared. And in doing so, it had removed the most significant influence in Alexander’s life.

And now, standing there, staring down at his father’s peaceful face, Alexander felt a cold, undeniable certainty settle over him.

It was only fair. If the world had taken something so significant from him, it was time to take something of equal value back. The game had changed. And there was no turning back now.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, a single tear slipped from Alexander’s left eye, a silent testament to how much Cassius had meant to him.

Hey everyone! This chapter is dedicated to TW_MIRAGE. Thank you so, so much! What a way to start the day—and honestly, the week—seeing your gifts. I truly appreciate it. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed putting it together!

Thank you so much