The following days were a blur of meetings, phone calls, and arrangements. Zarki found himself entrenched in the logistics of mourning and handling his late friend's estate. Combo's death had cast a shadow over the entire region, and for those who had worked closely with him, it was as if the very foundation of Wamboli's business world had been shaken. But in all the chaos, one thing stood clear: Combo had left behind an empire, and that empire would soon pass into the hands of his ten children.
Zarki had always known Combo had children, but the extent of the family, its size, its complexity, had never been fully apparent to him. The world knew Combo as a man of business, but within the walls of his private life, he had built a sprawling legacy that spanned generations. A legacy that now seemed so fragile.
The family gathered at Combo's estate for the reading of his will, and the air in the room was thick with tension. Zarki arrived early, walking through the ornate doors of Combo's home with a quiet, solemn expression. The large marble-tiled foyer seemed even colder than it usually did. The grand chandelier above, which Combo had purchased during a trip to Paris years ago, cast a soft light over the room. Yet, there was no joy in the space, only grief and a sense of impending change.
Zarki had barely settled into one of the plush chairs when Combo's attorney, a man in his late sixties with graying hair and a sharp suit, entered the room. His name was Mr. Durbin, and he had been Combo's lawyer for over twenty years. He was a man of few words, but his silence held weight, especially now. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses before stepping forward.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to honor the final wishes of the late Mr. Combo," he began, his voice steady but lacking any warmth. "It is my solemn duty to ensure that his estate is distributed according to his will."
Zarki glanced around the room. Combo's ten children were seated at the large table in front of him, each one a reflection of their father in some way. The eldest, Jamilah, was a poised woman in her late thirties, a powerful businesswoman in her own right, known for her sharp mind and keen sense of strategy. Beside her sat Malik, the rebellious second-born son, a musician who had always resented the wealth and the expectations placed on him. To his left was Amira, a quiet but fiercely intelligent daughter, who had been studying law overseas when she received the news of her father's passing.
The other children were a mix of varying ages and personalities, each with their own distinct role in Combo's life. There was Rashid, the youngest son, only fifteen, with wide eyes and an expression of vulnerability that spoke of the weight of the moment. There was Amina, the ambitious daughter who had recently started working in the family business. Then there was Zara, the free-spirited artist who had always lived in the shadow of her siblings, seemingly uninterested in inheriting any of the family's wealth.
As Zarki observed them, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Would they be able to manage the empire Combo had so carefully constructed? Or would the vastness of the inheritance tear them apart?
Mr. Durbin cleared his throat again, breaking Zarki's thoughts.
"I will now proceed with the reading of the will," he said, unrolling a thick piece of parchment from the leather folder he carried.
The room grew even quieter, if that was possible. All eyes were on Mr. Durbin as he began to read the document aloud. Zarki's mind wandered briefly as he listened, but his attention quickly snapped back when he heard his name.
"To my dear friend, Zarki," Mr. Durbin read. "I leave a portion of my estate in recognition of our long-standing friendship. You were my closest ally, my most trusted confidant, and I wish for you to have a part of what we built together. I trust you will ensure the future of my children and that my legacy will be upheld."
Zarki felt the weight of the words. It was an unexpected gesture, and it carried with it the responsibility of managing a portion of Combo's empire. He glanced at the children, noting the expressions of surprise and confusion on their faces. It was clear that many of them hadn't known about this arrangement, but none dared to question it aloud.
Mr. Durbin continued.
"Now, as for the inheritance of my estate, it is to be divided among my ten children as follows: Jamilah, my eldest, will be given full control of the largest portion of the business, including all real estate holdings and investments. She has proven herself capable of leading this family's legacy."
Zarki noticed Jamilah's jaw tighten. She had always been the most business-savvy of the children, but he could see that there was more than just pride in her expression, there was something else, something deeper. Fear, perhaps. Fear of the weight that would now fall on her shoulders.
"Malik," Mr. Durbin continued, "while you have followed your own path, I leave you with the management of the entertainment division. It is a portion of the estate that aligns with your talents and ambitions. I trust that you will continue to honor my name within this industry."
Malik shifted in his seat, but there was no smile on his face. He had always been the wild card, the one who hadn't quite fit in with the business side of the family, but Combo had respected his talent in the music industry. He didn't seem entirely pleased with the inheritance, but he wasn't one to show much emotion.
The rest of the children received their shares including Combo's wife, some of them small, some sizable, depending on their relationship with Combo and their involvement in the business. But as Mr. Durbin continued, Zarki could see that the family was almost divided. Tension hung thick in the air, and the weight of what had just transpired seemed to be settling in.
As the final lines of the will were read, Zarki felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Combo had hoped his empire would become a lasting legacy for his children, and in the end, it almost was, in a far more peaceful way than if no will had ever been written.
And for Zarki, his role in this was still unclear. He had been given a portion of the estate, but it was not his to keep. Combo's empire was vast, and its future was uncertain. He could feel the pull of responsibility already weighing heavily on him. But Zarki had never been one to shy away from a challenge.
As the will reading came to a close, Mr. Durbin looked up at the assembled family and then at Zarki.
"The rest of the details, including the management of the business, will be handled in the coming weeks," Mr. Durbin said, standing up. "For now, I suggest that you all take some time to mourn your father's passing and allow for the transition to begin."
The room was silent. The tension that filled the air was palpable as each child, now an heir, tried to process the enormity of what had just transpired.
Zarki stood, his mind swirling with the implications of the will. This would not be an easy road, and the future of Combo's empire was uncertain. But one thing was clear: at least Combo had children to manage it, and now it was his responsibility to ensure that the legacy was protected.
As the will reading concluded, the weight of Combo's death, and the inheritance it had left behind, settled heavily on Zarki. He stood there in the same spot, staring at the family, feeling a mix of emotions that he couldn't quite articulate. The children were quietly digesting the gravity of what had just occurred, their faces a mixture of shock, confusion, and, in some cases, resentment. Zarki, however, was thinking about the bigger picture. He had known Combo long enough to understand the complexities of his friendship, his business, and his deep ties to Wamboli. Now, Combo was gone, and with him, the intricacies of their shared empire were beginning to unravel.
Zarki knew that the road ahead would not be smooth. He had been given part of Combo's wealth, a share of his business, a stake in the empire, but the reality of it all was stark. The children, now heirs, had their own plans, their own dreams, and their own personal interests. Some of them were capable of running the empire, while others were still far from being ready to take on such responsibility. Zarki had no doubt that there would be struggles within the family. And he had no illusions about how difficult it would be to keep the empire together.
After the will reading, Zarki made his way to the terrace outside, seeking a moment of solitude. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the lush grounds of Combo's estate. He gazed out at the horizon, feeling the warmth of the fading sunlight on his skin. The sounds of the family murmuring inside the house seemed distant now, as if they belonged to another world. Zarki was used to being surrounded by wealth, power, and influence, but the void left by Combo's absence felt different. It was like the foundation of Wamboli itself had shifted, and Zarki now had to decide how to move forward.
He lit a cigar, letting the smoke drift up into the air. As the rich, earthy scent filled his lungs, he thought about the bond he had shared with Combo. It had been more than just a friendship, it had been a partnership. A partnership forged in business deals, mutual respect, and shared ambition. Zarki had always been there for Combo, offering support when needed, and Combo had reciprocated in kind. Now, with Combo gone, Zarki found himself standing at the crossroads of his own future. He was part of Combo's legacy now, but what did that really mean?
The sound of footsteps behind him broke his thoughts. He turned to see Jamilah, the eldest daughter, approaching him.
She was dressed in a dark, formal outfit, the kind one wears when preparing for the weight of leadership. Her face, usually composed and confident, was now a mask of controlled emotion. She was, after all, her father's daughter.
"I didn't expect to find you out here alone," she said, her voice calm but carrying an underlying tension.
Zarki nodded, taking another drag from his cigar. "There's a lot to process. I needed some space."
Jamilah walked up beside him, standing silently for a moment. Then, she turned to face him, her expression softening slightly.
"I wasn't prepared for this," she said, her voice betraying the strain she was under. "Father built this empire, and now… now it's all on me. The weight of it all is too much to bear."
Zarki knew that Jamilah had always been the one to carry the responsibility for the family business. She was the most capable, the one who had the vision and the drive to lead. But now, the burden had grown exponentially. He could see the cracks in her armor, the vulnerability that had always been hidden beneath her confident exterior.
"You don't have to do this alone," Zarki said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I'll help you, Jamilah. You know that."
She looked at him, her dark eyes searching his face. For a moment, there was silence between them, an unspoken understanding that passed through the air like a current.
"I don't know if that will be enough," she finally said, shaking her head. "I've never had to lead without him. And now… now it's just me and all of them." She motioned to the house, where the other children were still gathered. "I don't know if I can manage it."
Zarki took a final drag from his cigar before tossing it into the stone ashtray beside him. "You'll manage. You're your father's daughter. And he trusted you. I've seen you work, you have what it takes."
Jamilah gave him a small, forced smile. "I hope so."
Zarki's thoughts drifted to the other children, Combo's sons and daughters. Some of them would be easy to work with, while others, like Malik, might present more challenges. Zarki had seen the way Malik had reacted during the will reading, there had been no joy, no sense of triumph. It was clear he had little interest in the empire his father had built. His heart lay elsewhere, with his music and the life he had crafted for himself outside of his family's expectations. Zarki had known Malik for years, and he was a man who resented being tied down by obligations. And then there was Rashid, the youngest, who looked lost and fragile in the wake of Combo's death. Zarki couldn't help but wonder if the boy was even ready to inherit anything at all.
But the one person Zarki found himself most concerned about was Zara, the artist, the free spirit. Zara had always felt like an outsider in the family, someone who had never fully embraced the business side of their father's legacy. Zarki could sense that she would struggle with the responsibilities that came with the inheritance. But even more than that, he could sense that she didn't want any part of it. The question was, would she fight for her share of the empire, or would she walk away?
Jamilah was still looking at him, waiting for him to speak. Zarki took a deep breath and turned to face her fully.
"I know it's overwhelming," he said, his voice steady. "But you're not alone in this. You have me, and you have your father's legacy. We'll figure this out."
Jamilah nodded, her posture relaxing slightly. "I appreciate it, Zarki. But… I don't know if I'm ready to take on all of this."
Zarki placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm yet reassuring. "You are. You just have to trust yourself."
The conversation lingered in the air, an unspoken understanding passing between them. For Zarki, it was clear that the future of Combo's empire lay in the hands of its heirs, but it would take more than just business acumen to navigate the challenges ahead. It would take resilience, patience, and the ability to manage not just the business, but the family dynamics that came with it.
Zarki turned to leave, but before he did, he glanced back at Jamilah. She was standing there, lost in thought, her gaze distant. The weight of her fathe
r's empire was upon her, and it was now up to her, and the others, to decide what came next.