MY BOSS SAID HE PUT MY NAME IN THE WILL AND THEN SMIRKED
I walked into his office just as he hung up the phone, his hand trembling slightly, eyes fixed on the far wall. The air here always felt thick now.
He gestured weakly towards the worn leather chair opposite his desk. The glare from the midday sun through the window was blinding, making his face look even more gaunt. “Sit,” he rasped, his voice thin. “There’s something important we need to finalize. Before…”
My mind was racing a mile a minute about Mark hovering outside. He expected everything. But the old man had always seemed to favour me, despite my protests about how ridiculous this all was.
He leaned forward slightly, a strange, knowing, almost cruel look in his eyes. “It’s all arranged… just like we discussed, isn’t it?” A dry, humourless sound escaped his lips right afterwards – like a deliberate, cutting smirk. That sound sent an immediate, icy chill down my spine. Just then, a sharp, unexpected rap sounded on the door.
Mark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed directly on me, and said, “The real game starts now.”
👇 Full story continued in the comments…Mark’s words hung in the air, sharp and challenging. My breath hitched. The casual cruelty in his tone was a stark contrast to the boss’s fragile appearance, yet somehow felt connected to that unsettling smirk. My focus snapped from Mark back to the boss. He had slumped back slightly in his chair, eyes now closed, a faint, almost imperceptible nod of his head acknowledging Mark’s presence.
Mark stepped fully into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He didn’t approach the desk immediately, instead leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over the office, finally settling back on me. There was a predatory stillness about him. “Ready to play?” he asked, his voice low, devoid of the usual office politeness. “Or did you think you could just walk in and take it all without a fight?”
The boss stirred, a dry cough rattling his chest. “Mark,” he rasped, opening his eyes. “Always so eager to jump to the conclusion. The will… is merely the first move.” He looked at me, that strange light returning to his eyes, but softer this time, perhaps just the reflection of the sun. “The arrangement,” he continued, his voice gaining a touch more strength, “isn’t about giving things away. Not entirely. It’s about… ensuring the legacy continues, in the way *I* see fit. And that requires… a certain kind of competition.” He gestured to the desk. “The papers are there. Everything is detailed. Your part… Mark’s part. The conditions. The objectives.”
My stomach dropped. This wasn’t just about inheriting money or assets. This was something more complex, designed to force a confrontation. The boss hadn’t just put my name in a will; he’d set a trap, or perhaps a test, for both of us. The smirk hadn’t been about my good fortune; it had been about the elaborate, potentially brutal game he was initiating from his deathbed.
The boss pushed a single, thick envelope across the desk with a trembling hand. It was sealed with a heavy wax stamp bearing the company’s old, ornate logo. “Read it,” he instructed, his voice barely a whisper now. “Together. That’s the first condition.”
I reached for the envelope, my hand unsteady, the weight of his words and Mark’s presence pressing down. Mark pushed off the doorframe and walked towards the desk, his shadow falling over me, cold and imposing. I could feel his intense gaze, a mixture of hostility and sharp anticipation. This wasn’t just a formal reading of a will; it was the unveiling of a challenge, witnessed by the architect of the conflict.
As I broke the seal and pulled out the documents, the crisp sound seemed deafening in the silent room. The title page wasn’t just a standard will. It was headed: “Articles of Succession and Conditional Bequest.” The boss’s smirk, I finally understood, wasn’t just amusement at my potential inheritance. It was the satisfied look of a man who, even in his final moments, was orchestrating a final, high-stakes game, setting his chosen contenders against each other for control of his empire. Mark leaned in, his breath warm on my neck, as we both began to read the detailed rules of the ‘real game’ that had just begun.