The way his name still carries weight in this city. The way people still lower their voices when they say it. The way his legacy is being turned into something traded across a table like currency. I won’t let his body be desecrated.
Something inside me hardens.
“I won’t sign,” I say.
Anton’s expression shifts instantly. The smile fades. Not fully, but enough to show what’s underneath it. Frustration. Irritation. Something darker pressing against the surface.
“Why?” he asks.
One word. Controlled. But sharp.
I meet his gaze without flinching.
“I’ll sign,” I say slowly, “after my father receives a proper funeral.”
The temperature of the conversation drops.
Anton’s jaw flexes once.
And for the first time since he walked in, he doesn’t answer immediately.
Silence stretches between us.
I hold my breath, watching him. Waiting. Not for mercy—but for calculation. Because Anton doesn’t react emotionally unless it benefits him. He thinks. Always thinks first.
His eyes flicker briefly toward the folder. Then back to me.
“Fine,” he says at last. “But the burial will be tonight. No time for a party.”
My jaw tightens.
“I don’t want a party,” I say flatly. “I want a funeral.”
Anton leans back slightly in his chair, like the distinction doesn’t matter to him at all. Like my words are just details he can edit later.
“It’s arranged,” he replies.
Something in his tone makes my stomach turn.
***
The funeral isn’t what I asked for.
It’s what he decides to allow.
The ceremony is cold. Staged in a way that turns my grief into exposure. Black cars line the entrance. Armed men stand at measured intervals. The air itself feels watched.
There are guests. No loyalists or close friends of my father. But the city’s criminal elite. People I recognize. People my father once dealt with. People who shouldn’t be here.
My chest tightens slowly as I understand it.
This isn’t mourning.
It’s a performance.
Anton has turned my father’s burial into a display. A reminder. A message broadcast in silence to everyone watching: Power has shifted, and he’s the one defining how legacy ends.
I didn’t want a party. I made that clear.
