THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL HEIR

The wind howled like a warning across the Goodman Estate, but the mourners only clutched their black coats tighter and turned their tearless faces toward the casket.Richard Goodman,the titan, the tycoon, the tyrant,was finally dead.

A polished mahogany coffin sat beneath the white silk canopy. Gold-trimmed roses lined the velvet, and mourners lined the earth like vultures dressed in Prada.

Press cameras flashed beyond the wrought-iron fence, catching every solemn nod and practiced frown. The scene was perfect.Too perfect.

A black Bentley pulled up to the estate gates, its arrival unnoticed amidst the carefully choreographed grief. But when the door opened, and a tall figure stepped out in a long black coat, everything stopped, Conversations died mid-sentence.

Chins turned slowly, one after another, like dominos falling in a chain of disbelief.And then someone whispered it, like a curse, or a ghost story resurfacing, “Jeffrey. ”His name cracked through the silence like a gunshot.

Jeffrey Goodman hadn’t been seen in six years, Not in the boardroom, Not in the will, Not in the obituaries or society pages he was a ghost, burned from every Goodman record after the infamous fallout with his father and stepmother.

But now, that ghost walked again.He adjusted his cufflinks, the glint of a black obsidian ring flashing briefly in the weak morning light. His jaw was sharper, his presence heavier, as if time hadn’t just aged him,it had forged him.

Zane Goodman, the late Richard’s younger son and now-proclaimed heir, staggered one step backward from the gravesite. “What the hell is he doing here?” Zane hissed.

His mother, Eleanor, didn’t blink. Her red nails curled around the diamond handle of her umbrella. “Hold your ground. ”But Jeffrey didn’t look at either of them. His eyes, cold and cutting, were fixed on the casket.

“Did he die clean?” Jeffrey asked suddenly, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Murmurs broke out. The minister paused, confused.Jeffrey walked forward, slicing the air with each step. He reached the casket and stared at it for a long moment. Then, he pulled a black rose from his coat pocket and dropped it on top.

“I wonder how many of you were already planning his death before he hit the ground,” he said softly.

Gasps followed. Eleanor stepped forward, lips curled. “You weren’t invited,” she said. “You don’t belong here.”

Jeffrey finally turned to face her. “Neither did his killers,” he replied.

Zane lunged forward, rage overtaking reason. “You son of a... Jeffrey moved faster than anyone expected. In one fluid motion, he caught Zane’s wrist mid-swing, twisted it behind his back, and forced him to his knees.

The security guards hesitated. Eleanor raised her hand to stop them. Jeffrey’s grip on Zane tightened  “Still weak,” he murmured in Zane’s ear. “All these years, and you’re still the coward hiding behind your mother’s skirts.”

Zane groaned in pain. “You can’t just walk back in here like you own the place!”Jeffrey released him with a shove. Zane fell to the grass.He stood tall again, scanning the crowd. Dozens of eyes darted away from his. Fear. Uncertainty. Recognition.

Jeffrey nodded slightly, satisfied“I’m not here to grieve,” he said. “I’m here for the truth.”

He turned his gaze back to the coffin. “My father didn’t die of natural causes. He was murdered.”

The minister stumbled back. Several guests whispered furiously. One woman clutched her pearls, Eleanor took a step forward. “You have no proof.”

Jeffrey didn’t answer her. Instead, he pulled a small black USB from his pocket and held it between two fingers “This contains video footage from inside the Goodman mansion, Not tampered,Not doctored. Dated two nights before the heart attack.”

A flicker of something passed over Eleanor’s face, Not surprise, fear, Jeffrey smiled. “Daddy didn’t die in his sleep, he died begging for air.”

He tossed the USB to the minister. “Do your duty,” he said. “And bury him knowing the truth will be exhumed with him if you don't.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked away, the crowd parting like waves before him. No one dared stop him.No one dared speak.But Eleanor’s voice rose sharply as he reached the Bentley again. “You’ve made a mistake returning, Jeffrey. You don’t know what you’ve started.”

He looked back over his shoulder. “I didn’t come back to start something,” he said coolly. “I came to end it.”

The car door slammed, and the Bentley peeled away, tires screaming against the gravel as it vanished down the winding road. Back at the gravesite, the USB slipped from the minister’s trembling fingers and landed in the grass. Unnoticed, Unclaimed, Unplugged, But not for long.

Jeffrey stood in the rain, watching a man bleed. The informant’s hands were tied behind his back, mouth stuffed with cloth, eyes wild with fear. Victor Kael, Jeffrey’s second-in-command and longtime ally, leaned against the alley wall, arms crossed.

“You sure about this guy?” Victor asked. “He was your father’s bookkeeper, not a hitman.”

Exactly why he knows where the bodies are buried,” Jeffrey replied, He stepped forward, crouched in front of the gagged man, and pulled the cloth from his mouth.

The man gasped. “I didn’t have a choice! Eleanor said,said she’d kill my family.”

Jeffrey held up a hand. “I’m not here for your excuses. I’m here for the list.” The man looked up, broken. “What list?”

“The ledger,” Jeffrey said. “The one that disappeared the night my father died. I know he trusted you to keep a second copy.“I.....I don’t know...,”

Jeffrey nodded once. Victor reached into his coat and pulled out a syringe. “No! Please!”Jeffrey crouched lower. His voice dropped.

“She killed him. You think she’ll let you live once the dust settles? I’m your only chance now. Give me the ledger, and I can keep you breathing.”The man’s lips trembled. Then he nodded.

“Safe house, East Harbor, Red brick building, third floor, Behind the false wall in the closet. It’s all there.”Jeffrey rose and stepped back, Victor holstered the syringe.

“We good?” he asked.

Jeffrey’s gaze didn’t leave the informant. “One more thing, ”He walked up, leaned close.

“Who ordered the hit on me six years ago?”

The man went pale. “I… I don’t know.”

Jeffrey’s eyes narrowed. “I swear! All I know is,it wasn’t your father. He tried to stop it.” A beat of silence.

Jeffrey stood slowly, digesting that.Victor tilted his head. “Then who did?”

The man whispered, “Ask Zane.”

Before Victor could speak, a shot rang out from the rooftop. The informant’s head snapped back,blood sprayed the alley.Jeffrey dove behind a dumpster, drawing his gun. Victor pulled his weapon too, scanning the rooftops.

“Sniper!” Victor shouted.                                                                                         

But the shooter was already gone.Rain hit the concrete in heavy, rhythmic taps.Jeffrey stared at the lifeless body. “Son of a bitch,” Victor muttered. “That was too clean. Pro.”

Jeffrey’s face was stone.“They knew he was going to talk.”

Victor looked at him. “What now?”

Jeffrey slid his gun back into its holster. “We go to East Harbor. And find that ledger before it gets burned.” He turned to the alley’s exit, but his phone buzzed in his coat.One message.

You’re playing a game you don’t understand. Stop digging, or you’ll end up in the next coffin.Jeffrey stared at the screen.Then he deleted the message.And walked into the rain.