Rise of the big bad son-in-law

Chapter five.

Weeks had rolled by, introducing Jamal into this new life that he'd always dreamed of, although it still felt foreign sometimes... The servants calling him sir, having all that money in his account.

Slowly, he was learning to live again. To breathe without fear.

It was finally his grandfather's funeral today, and every powerful figure in the city seemed to be present... businessmen, politicians, old family allies each one gathered to honor the great patriarch of the Lincoln dynasty.

Jamal stood a little apart from the crowd, dressed in a fine black designer suit. He looked calm on the outside, but inside, his heart pulsed rapidly. This was his world now. His legacy. Yet even as he stood tall among the powerful, he couldn’t shake the echo of humiliation from his past.

He was about to take a step forward when a familiar sound froze him in place.

That cruel laughter coated with sugar on the outside only belonged to one person; Mrs Smith.

He turned around and true to his intuition, it was her, in the company of her two sons, Mark, and David, Eva wasn't present.

Mark spotted Jamal first. His laughter cut off abruptly, and his expression twisted in disbelief. He jabbed his brother with an elbow. David turned, and his eyes widened.

“No way,” Mark breathed, grinning now. “Is that... Jamal?”

Mrs. Smith followed their gaze. For a moment, she simply stared at him, then her lips curled into a venomous smile.

“It can’t be,” she said, her voice dripping with mock pity as she inched closer towards him. “Did they let prisoners attend funerals now?”

Jamal turned to face them fully.. he didn't speak, he wanted them to let it all out. 

Mark let out a slightly loud laugh that drew a few glances towards their direction. “Or maybe he escaped! Yeah, that must be it! Did you crawl through the bars, Jamal?”

David joined in, shaking his head. “And he came straight here? To a billionaire’s funeral? Man, you really lost it.”

Mrs. Smith took a deliberate step closer, clutching her designer clutch like a queen addressing a beggar. “Do you realize where you are, Jamal?” she hissed. “This is a legend’s funeral. Everyone here is important. Men of value. Not imposters like you. You don’t belong here, for whatever reason.”

Jamal still said nothing, only watched. 

“Oh, but I see why you came,” Mrs. Smith went on, smiling coldly. “To eat crumbs, perhaps? To beg? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Begging.” She turned to her sons. “We should call the police. Report an escaped convict before he soils the Lincoln estate with his presence.”

Jamal couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. He wanted to laugh so badly but he managed to hold it in.

Mrs. Smith noticed and frowned. “What are you smiling about?”

 “Nothing." Jamal finally spoke, his voice as calm as he had wanted it to be. "I was just thinking how... small people always laugh the loudest when they think they’re standing tall.”

David scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jamal tilted his head slightly. “It means you should enjoy the moment while it lasts.”

Mark snorted. “You talk like you matter here, but you just came to beg before you die out of hunger.”

“Oh, I came as family,” Jamal said simply.

They glanced at each other and bursted into uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“Family?” Mrs. Smith laughed so hard tears almost formed at the corners of her eyes. “You poor, delusional man. You think the Lincolns would ever associate themselves with someone like you?”

“Even we only got in because we secured a major contract with the Lincoln group recently,” Mark added proudly. “That’s real connection and class.”

Jamal’s smile widened slightly, now he I know exactly where to start.

“Congratulations,” he said calmly. “May your contract be... fruitful.”

Mrs. Smith waved him off like an insect. “Just stay out of sight, Jamal. You’re embarrassing enough standing here in that cheap suit pretending to belong, and oh, Eva has moved on, don't even think of begging us to get you two back together.”

Jamal inclined his head slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As they turned to mingle with other guests, a voice called his name from across the hall.

“Mr. Lincoln!”

It was Evelyn.

Jamal’s gaze snapped toward her. She was approaching fast, clutching a small folder. He immediately stepped forward to intercept her before she reached the Smiths... He didn't want them to know about his new life yet.

He met her halfway.

“Evelyn,” he said quickly under his breath, “not now. Don’t say anything please.”

Her brows furrowed. “About what?”

He glanced over his shoulder, the Smiths were still nearby, smiling with guests.  “About who I am, there're people I want to surprise myself," 

Eva nodded. “All right.”

“Tell me,” he added, lowering his voice further, “the contract with the Smiths. When was it signed?”

“Recently,” she said. “Barely two weeks ago." 

Jamal’s smile widened. “Good. That’ll make things... easier.”

Eva tilted her head slightly. “You’re planning something for them?”

“I’m planning to clean house,” he replied calmly. “Starting with my trash.”

She gave him a curt nod and excused herself, disappearing into the crowd just as the ceremony began.

*

Hours later, after speeches, prayers, and eulogies, the crowd began to reduce. 

Jamal stood near one of the pillars, his gaze flickering through the disappearing crowd, when a shadow fell across him.

“Forgive my intrusion,” came a low voice. “I couldn’t help noticing the resemblance.”

Jamal turned.

An elderly man stood before him.. tall, silver-haired, and bouncily dressed... Their was something about the coldness of his eyes, even though he was smiling. 

“You must be Jamal,” the man said pleasantly.

“I am,” Jamal replied cautiously.

The man extended a hand. “Andrew Lincoln. Your uncle.”

The name struck Jamal hard across the ears. The man whose greed had cost his parents their lives.

He took Andrew’s hand slowly, shaking it with restrained tension.

“I’ve heard of you,” Jamal said evenly.

“I imagine you have,” Andrew replied with a chuckle. 

They released hands, and Andrew slipped both of his into his pockets casually.

“You’ve caused quite a stir, you know,” Andrew said in a cool voice. “The lost grandson suddenly returned, everyone is waiting for you to make an appearance." 

Jamal remained silent, watching him closely.

Andrew leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “I know what you are thinking, Jamal. You believe this company is your birthright. Evelyn must have told you that your grandfather left the company for you. But the world doesn’t work that simply.”

Jamal’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing.

 “I’m not here to fight you, boy. I’m giving you an opportunity. Step away from the Lincoln group. Walk away quietly, I will make sure you take with you as much money as you wish, and you’ll live comfortably. No one will come after you.”

Jamal met his gaze, still silent.

Andrew's smile never for once left his face, you could tell that he'll still have that smile on while driving a sharp blade through your guts. 

"But if you insist on taking what I’ve built, you’ll find the heat unbearable. I’ve spent years crafting this empire, making sure I'll be the one to run it once grandpa Lincoln dies. If you stand in my way, you’ll burn with it.”

He adjusted his cufflinks casually, as though he hadn’t just delivered a threat.

“Think about it,” he said lightly, giving Jamal’s shoulder a friendly pat. “I’m not your enemy... unless you force me to be.”

Then he smiled again and turned to leave.

Jamal stood there quietly, watching his uncle walk away through the thinning crowd, his mind racing but his body utterly still.

He had no defense yet. No strategy to strike back, but when the time comes, Andrew would understand exactly what it meant to threaten a man who had already lived through hell.