Jackson

As the memories flood back as they did whenever I thought about Dad. His words cut through the air like a serrated blade, leaving wounds that would fester within me for years to come.

"You're throwing your life away, Jackson," he yelled. "Chasing after your foolish dreams, leaving behind everything we've worked for as a family. You think money will fill the void? It'll leave you emptier than ever."

His words struck a chord deep within me. But I refused to let him see the doubt that clawed at my resolve.

"I'm not throwing my life away, Dad," I retorted, my voice tinged with defiance. "I'm carving my own path, creating a legacy that goes beyond the confines of this small town. I refuse to settle for mediocrity."

“Do you think you're better than us, don't you? Too good for this town, for the values we hold dear. Jackson, you'll regret turning your back on family and tradition."

I stood my ground, the fire of ambition blazing within me. "I don't regret my choices, Dad. I refuse to live a life dictated by the expectations of others. I'll prove that success and happiness are within reach, even if it means walking this path alone."

"You'll see, Jackson. One day, you'll come crawling back, searching for the love and support you cast aside. But it'll be too late."

And with those chilling words, my father turned his back on me, leaving me alone with the weight of his disapproval. I found the strength to build a life on my own terms, to create an empire that would be my testament to resilience and unwavering ambition.

At the end of each grueling day, I ended up alone in the confines of my penthouse—a sanctuary of sleek modernity perched high above the bustling city below. Its towering glass walls offered panoramic views of the metropolis, its twinkling lights a testament to the vibrant life I observed from a distance.

The office, the epicenter of my empire, mirrored the sterile elegance of the penthouse. The desk, a polished slab of mahogany, served as my command center. Behind it, floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking vista, a tapestry of gleaming skyscrapers and bustling streets. It was a constant reminder of the world I had conquered, the realm I had tamed with ruthless ambition, yet it left me feeling detached, a mere spectator of the life I could never fully embrace.

Mrs. Jenkins, my housekeeper navigated the rooms with ease, attending to every meticulous detail. The scent of freshly cut white orchids filled the air, their delicate petals a symbol of purity in the sterile environment that surrounded me. Mrs. Jenkins' diligent care was a bittersweet comfort, a reminder of the human touch I craved but feared to invite.

One afternoon, as I sat behind my imposing desk, the weight of isolation pressing upon me, the mahogany doors swung open with a burst of urgency. Kay, my steadfast secretary, barged into the office, her usually composed demeanor replaced by a mix of concern and determination.

"Jackson, you have to go home. Your father... he passed away," Kay pleaded, her voice trembling with empathy.

I looked up, my eyes cold and distant, my heart shielded by the walls I had constructed. The news hit me like a tsunami, washing over my carefully crafted facade. "I don't want to go," I replied, my voice a blend of stubborn defiance and deep-seated pain.

The thought of returning to Ridgeton, the small town that had scarred my soul, filled me with an uneasy blend of apprehension and dread.

"I know it's difficult, Jackson. But burying your father isn't just about him. It's an opportunity for closure, for healing wounds that have kept you isolated for far too long."

"What's the point? He never believed in me, never supported my ambitions," I confessed, the bitterness of past disappointments mingling with the ache of unfulfilled longing.

Kay's expression softened,  "This isn't about seeking his approval, Jackson. It's about finding peace, about freeing yourself from the shackles of resentment. You deserve to lay those ghosts to rest."

Silence enveloped the office, the air heavy with unspoken truths and the echoes of our shared vulnerability. Reluctantly, I released a sigh, my defenses momentarily crumbling under the weight of Kay's genuine concern.

"I'll go. But I can't promise that it will change anything."

"Sometimes, the greatest transformations happen when we least expect them."

The prospect of returning to Ridgeton, to confront the ghosts of my past and unearth buried emotions, filled me with doubt and regret about the past. I wasn’t going to shed a tear for the old man. He didn’t deserve my attention, when he was alive, let alone now that he was dead.