The Mafia's Surrogate (ON HOLD)

Chapter 50

-: CHASE :-

What was life? A continuous circle of pain and misery. Whoever the fuck said that in life everything has to be balanced, was so fucking wrong. If you spend half of your life in misery, other half would be blessed with joy ... was so god damn fucking wrong. Becuase all throughout my life I had only felt pain and grief.

After enduring so much heartache and sorrow, life had again brought me at the same check point. Where my tear ducts were begging to leak open but I couldn't allow myself to cry. Because if I do end up tearing I would be labelled as a weak man.

A man who cries is weak and I am not allowed to do so ....

or that was what I had thought. But how could the universe even expect from a human to bear so much agony in his life and not end up breaking apart?

Keeping my fist on my mouth, I grinded my teeth in rage and agony. My nostrils flared as I tried to bury the grief in, but to no avail. My throat was tightening as emotions were howling to come out.

"Chase, it's time ...."

A soft whisper. Never had I ever heard Andrew speaking so softly. As if he was worried, one wrong word .... and I would break apart.

My eyes raked over the violent waves of sea. On a faraway distance, a narrow cliff was standing in the middle of the sea.
Alone, isolated and lonely. Just like me.

I closed my eyelid slowly and took a deep breath, only for a single tear to leak from my left eye. Chase Morgan had never cried, and had taken the vow to never ever shed a tear. But today, how could nature expect a father to bury his son, without crying.

"Chase."

Draven kept his hand on my shoulder to break the trance. I exhaled a deep broken breath, full of suppressed miseries and sorrows. It was time indeed, for the final ritual.

To bury my son.

The weather was gloom, dark clouds not letting the sun to cast its rays on us. As if nature was sharing our woes, sympathizing with me.

All my men were standing dressed in black clothes, a tiny casket lying on the ground. I didn't dare to take any other peek. The last time I did, had left me horrified.

The stab of Benjamin's knife was so deep, it had punctured my son internal organs. It was all bloodied and horrific when I had held his tiny corpse wrapped in a white blanket, in my hands, just a few hours ago.

Closing the lid of the casket, I looked up at the sky. A drop of rain fell on my forehead and many other followed. Nature lamented with me as I, along with Draven, Ares, Andrew held the small casket and placed it in the freshly dug grave.

Tears cascaded down my cheeks but the rain hid it well, playing it's role. It was as if nature wanted me to bewail, to finally bring my emotions out that I had buried deeply for so long.

The intensity of rain intensified but I didn't stood up, neither did my men nor my father. All of our eyes remained fixed at the casket. A small gravestone glared back at me, the writings on it mocking me.

Here lies a son, a prince.

Was he? Did he really get the chance?