The news came in the dead of night. Zarki had just finished reviewing reports on his latest investments and the rapid expansion of his real estate empire when his phone rang. It was a call that no amount of wealth, no number of properties, and no number of cars could have prepared him for.
"Zarki," the voice on the other end of the line said, trembling with urgency. "It's Combo… he's gone."
Zarki's hand froze mid-air, the sleek phone almost slipping from his hand. His mind raced to process the information, but for a moment, all he could hear was the steady beat of his own heart in his ears. Combo, the man who had been more of a brother than a mere business associate. His closest confidant, the one person he trusted with everything, was gone.
"Are you sure?" Zarki's voice was barely above a whisper, his usually calm and authoritative tone cracking with emotion.
"Yes. He passed away in his sleep this morning. The doctors tried everything, but his heart just gave out," the voice on the other end replied.
Zarki stood still, his mind refusing to believe the words that were coming from the phone. He'd known Combo was ill. He had watched his best friend battle with failing health for months. But it hadn't seemed real. The two men had shared so many moments together, from late-night discussions about business, life, and philosophy, to years of building their empires. Now, all of that was gone.
Zarki took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I'll be there shortly."
The distance between his mansion and Combo's estate felt impossibly long as Zarki sped through the winding streets of Wamboli, his mind clouded with memories of their shared past. Combo was an integral part of Zarki's life, a man who had not only been his closest friend but also a trusted advisor. He was the one who had always provided a grounded perspective when Zarki's ambition threatened to blind him. A man who had been there for him when the world seemed to collapse and had been an unshakable pillar of support during times of personal and business turmoil.
Zarki had watched Combo deteriorate slowly. His once robust frame had shriveled under the weight of an unknown illness. Despite the best doctors and the most expensive treatments money could buy, Combo's health had continued to worsen. Zarki had spared no expense in trying to save him. He had flown in specialists from abroad, consulted with holistic healers from the Far East, and even tried experimental treatments. Yet nothing had worked. Combo, a man who had once been the picture of vitality, had succumbed to the inevitable.
As Zarki arrived at Combo's sprawling estate, he was met by a somber atmosphere. The large gates opened slowly, and Zarki drove up to the grand mansion. The staff moved quietly, their faces drawn with grief. The sight of the once-lively home now felt like a graveyard, a reminder that Combo, the man who had built it all, was no longer there.
Inside, Zarki found himself in the large study where Combo had spent most of his final days. The leather chair where Combo used to sit was now empty, and a lingering silence filled the room. Zarki stood by the window, staring out at the expansive estate. His eyes briefly clouded as he thought of the legacy Combo had built, the vast network of companies, properties, and investments. He had been a man of great wealth and power, but unlike Zarki, he had always valued family.
Zarki turned to face the room, his eyes settling on Combo's widow, and the group of mourners who had gathered. The woman, a striking woman in her late 40s, wore a sorrowful expression as she spoke softly with their children. She was clutching a tissue in her hands, tears slipping down her face. Despite her grief, Zarki could see the determination in her eyes. She was already calculating the next steps, figuring out how to preserve what Combo had built.
Zarki's heart ached as he looked at the group of children standing in the corner of the room. Combo's legacy was now in their hands. There were ten of them, a large and diverse family. Some were well into their adulthood, others still in their teens, but all were now the heirs to Combo's vast fortune. Each child had a different expression on their face. Some appeared stunned by the news, while others were quietly mourning their loss, clearly affected but struggling to maintain composure.
Zarki could not help but feel a sense of unease as he gazed at them. What would become of Combo's empire? Would the children, so varied in their talents, values, and personalities, be able to carry on the weight of his legacy? It was a question Zarki had never fully considered, and now, it weighed heavily on him.
At that moment, Zarki knew he had to act quickly. Combo's death had made one thing painfully clear: life was fleeting, and no matter how much wealth a man amassed, there was no guarantee that he would live long enough to see it pass down to the next generation. Zarki's wealth was his only legacy, but unlike Combo, he had no one to pass it on to. No wife, no children. It would all go to people who were not his blood, people who would inherit it without truly understanding the sacrifices made to build it.
Zarki took a deep breath and turned toward Combo's widow. He could see the questioning look in her eyes. He gave her a small nod, acknowledging her grief but also signaling that they needed to address the pressing matters at hand.
"We'll get through this," he said, his voice firm and steady. "I'll help you with whatever you need. Combo was my brother, and I'll make sure his legacy lives on."
The widow, still holding her tissue, gave a faint nod in response. But there was something in her eyes, a glimmer of uncertainty. Zarki didn't blame her. The road ahead was going to be difficult. Not just because of the massive fortune that had to be managed, but because of the complex family dynamics that would inevitably emerge as the children fought to claim their share of the empire.
Zarki walked over to the table where Combo's will had been placed. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The contents of that will would change everything. The weight of the moment settled over him like a heavy cloak, pressing down on his chest. His fingers hesitated over the paper as he picked it up, feeling the edges crisp under his fingertips. The scent of the old parchment reminded him of a time long gone, a time when everything had seemed simpler, more straightforward.
He unfolded the document slowly, the sound of the paper crinkling in the quiet room. His eyes scanned the lines, the familiar handwriting of his late friend Combo appearing before him. Zarki couldn't help but pause, the sting of loss still fresh. Combo had been more than a friend; he had been a mentor, a guiding force in Zarki's life. Now, as he read the carefully chosen words in the will, it became clear just how much wisdom Combo had left behind.
As Zarki read on, a deep sense of reflection washed over him. Combo's words were not just about the distribution of wealth; they were about harmony, balance, and the preservation of peace. He had meticulously planned for every possible scenario, ensuring that each member of his family would be taken care of, yet without causing rifts or resentment. His decisions were not based on favoritism or greed, but on fairness and foresight. The apportioning of his wealth was done with such care that Zarki felt a sharp pang of respect.
Combo had outlined specific provisions to ensure that no single person could claim dominion over the family fortune. He had divided his assets into carefully structured shares, each designated for a specific purpose: the education of the children, the welfare of his siblings, and even charitable donations to causes he held dear. There were also clear instructions on how disputes should be handled, through calm discussions and mutual understanding, rather than through the courts or public fights. His words rang in Zarki's mind, echoing with a wisdom that seemed too rare for someone of Combo's position.
Zarki couldn't help but marvel at the way Combo had thought through every detail, anticipating the potential for conflict and addressing it before it could arise. Each bequest was meant to honor a person's role in his life, not to create division. For the first time in a long while, Zarki felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps it was possible to do the same, to distribute his own wealth with similar wisdom, to avoid the conflicts that had plagued his family for so long.
Zarki closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. It was clear that Combo's legacy was not just about money. It was about preserving peace, keeping the family united, and ensuring that each person had what they needed to thrive. Zarki knew he had to take the same approach, especially now, with the weight of his own decisions looming over him. He had to find a way to move forward without causing the same kind of strife that had torn others apart.
As he folded the will back up, Zarki's mind began to race. What Combo had done seemed impossible, but in that moment, Zarki felt a renewed sense of purpose. It wasn't just about the money, or the inheritance, it was about how he could shape his legacy, how he could ensure that future generations were spared the same struggles that had haunted him and his family.
Zarki stood there for a moment longer, the will in his hand, before he placed it back down on the table. He wasn't ready to make a decision just yet. But as the weight of Combo's wisdom settled in his heart, Zarki knew one thing for certain: he would follow the path his friend had paved. There was more at stake than just wealth. There was a future to be built, a future without the bitter taste of regret or destruction. And with that, Zarki stepped away from the table, a quiet resolve growing within him.