The next couple days were a blur. Jack slept sporadically, waking up several times during the night crying, or screaming, or both.

Right after the funeral, his mother lost control over her drinking, and Jack had to convince her to stay with him at the house, where he could keep her away from the prying eyes of the press. He had to keep postponing her meeting with the management council, who demanded for them to make decisions regarding the state of the company.

And so they had to read the will.

Jack sat next to his hungover mom at the lawyers' office, going over the list of things to do that his father had left him. He was close to being done. After the will, there were only a few items left.

Read my will.

Make sure your mother goes over my will carefully.

Take a decision regarding the management of the company.

Have a meeting with the management council.

Go on.

Jack bit his pen. What was that 'Go on' bullshit? Was his father trying to be deep in his own twisted way? 'Congratulations on reaching the end of the Dead Father Duties list. Now I order you to get over me and go on with your life.'

The lawyers entered the room, and extended their condolences to them right away. Businesslike. Cold.

The oldest of them cleared his throat. He had a big yellow envelope with his father's red wax seal on it.

"We shall proceed to the reading of the will of Mr. Lionel Spicer," he said, and broke the seal, taking out the contents: Two small envelopes and a bunch of papers. "As per his wishes, he left a letter to his wife, Miranda Spicer, and one for his son Jacob Spicer. As you can see, he signed them himself."

He gave them each one of the envelopes with their names on it. Jack hesitated, tracing the lines of his name, while his mother ripped open the envelope to read it right away.

After a deep breath, Jack took out the letter and unfolded it. Hopefully it wouldn't contain any more weird ass instructions. He noted the date at the top, and realized it was barely four months ago.

Four months ago, his father prepared to die.

"Dear Jack,

If you are reading this, you should already have gone through the list of tasks that I left for you with Yong. If you have not received a letter or met up with Yong, stop whatever you are doing, and contact Mr. Yong Wu, whose contact information I have written on a card along with this letter."

Jack rolled his eyes. Yeah dad, I took care of all my duties. I'm also really sad that you're dead, but I guess you didn't think I would be.

"If everything has gone as planned, you and your mother must be reading these letters, and you must be close to the end of the list. Thank you.

I have finished all the details about the will. There is only the matter of reading it before witnesses, but you don't have to worry about it. I have divided everything I own along with your mother, and left everything to her and to you in equal parts, something that the both of us had discussed a few times before you were born. I anticipate that she won't have anything to say in that respect.

Yong must have already told you that I had a stroke during mid August of this year. I can no longer ignore the fact that my health is slipping, and there are some things that keep me awake when I think that I might not have much time left, and the main ones are you and your mother.

Especially you.

Your mother is strong. Far stronger than you would believe, and I know you think highly of her. But I worry about you, because the more I think about all these years when I haven't seen you grow up, I realize that all that's happened is that you've retreated more and more into the confines of your own mind. Alone, with only your own thoughts for company, and I can't believe I never stopped you.

Jack, I know that you are one of the greatest minds to have ever lived, but I also want you to be happy. I love the greatness of you, but the idea that you're locked up in the basement, retreated away from the world. I can't help but think that you're locking yourself away from us, and ended up locking yourself away from the world at the same time.

I hope I have time to rectify this. To help you see that you're strong enough to go on. That you are not bound by us and our neglect.

Because that is what we've been. Neglectful parents. And you deserved more than us. Better than us.

But we live with our own decisions, and I hope I have enough time to at least make up for some of my own.

Please go on, Jack. Please live on and be happy. I love you, and it pains me to think that I have failed as a father for you.

If there is a heaven from which I can look down at you, nothing would make me prouder than see that you have become a better, happier man than I could ever be.

I love you Jack. You are my pride and my hope.

Go on."

Jack felt a knot on his throat. Strangling him as he tried to hold back his tears.

His mother stood up, screeching in rage. She crumpled the letter, stomped on it, and stormed out of the office.

Jack didn't have enough strength to follow her. Besides, he knew where he would find her. The bar at their hotel.