SHORT STORY THE FUNERAL HOME
THE FUNERAL HOME
Automatic traslation from the original story in Spanish. Not checked manually
Don Rodrigo, a man with a sun-tanned face and penetrating gaze, watched the family reunion from his leather chair. His 80th birthday was approaching, and the house was filled with laughter and hugs. His children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, all with the most radiant smile, showered him with affection and loving words.
However, a gnawing doubt gnawed at his heart. Was this love real? Or just a veil of interest in his fortune? An idea, somewhat macabre, began to take shape in his mind.
“I’ll fake my death,” he thought, an ironic smile curving his lips.
He contacted the most prestigious funeral home in the city, a place where luxury and discretion fused. The director, a man with a sharp face and cold gaze, listened attentively to Don Rodrigo’s plan.
“An exclusive service,” he said with a cold smile. “We guarantee that no one will suspect.”
And so, on the day of his supposed death, Don Rodrigo settled into a secret room, designed to observe and listen to every detail of the family’s “lamentation.”
The first few hours were heart-breaking. The tears, the hugs, the words of pain… everything seemed authentic. But as the night progressed, the farce began to fall apart.
The conversations, once full of love, turned cold and calculating. The heirs discussed the inheritance, the distribution of assets, the shares of the family business. Greed, ambition and hypocrisy took over the atmosphere.
Don Rodrigo, from his hiding place, watched with immense pain. His heart sank as he heard the words of his own youngest daughter, who, in a whisper, said: “At last I will be able to use the mansion on the coast…”
At dawn, with his soul shattered, Don Rodrigo left his hiding place. The farce was over. He had discovered the truth, a truth that had left a mark on him forever.
What would he do now? Would he confront his family? Or would he distance himself from them forever? The answer, still in the dark, was hidden in his heart.
As he was leaving the funeral home, he asked the director to notify all his relatives of the regrettable error that had occurred before the supposed burial time. That, due to an administrative oversight, the hospital had sent him a corpse with Don Rodrigo’s papers, when he had only been visited and was in very good health.
He smiled, imagining the frustrated faces of his six children, and, with some sadness, he went home. Then he would sleep and decide what to do.
He had slept for about four hours when he got up. After he had made a decision. He would go to the notary to change his will.
His fortune amounted to about 500 million euros, of which about 200 million was the value of the company to which he had dedicated his effort and his life.
His children had never wanted to work in the company. In fact, they had never wanted to work. They had all always wanted to focus on projects, where they could earn millions without doing anything.
He had always had to pay the price. All his life they had asked him for money for their “businesses” and to live well.
The time had come to change things. In his will he would leave them 75% of the company’s shares. The remaining 25% would be left to the director; he had spent his whole life trying to make the company grow, it was only fair that he should get a good chunk of it.
The remaining 300 million, which included money and property, would be left to AMREF. He had seen many times the humanitarian work they did in Africa and, without a doubt, they deserved this support.
As for his children, since the company’s share covered the inheritance perfectly, they could not claim anything. In addition, leaving them this would compensate for the little time that he had been able to dedicate to them due to work.
That would force them to work together or gradually sell the shares to their director… Once they were left with nothing, it would no longer be his problem.
Once the new will was written and signed, Don Rodrigo went home. He had barely slept and needed to rest. He was almost 80 and had to take care of himself.
When he arrived, he lay down on the bed, with the satisfaction of having done things well and with a certain sadness for not having managed to win the love of his children… “Maybe it wasn’t my fault” – he thought and, feeling a certain happiness, he let himself go to sleep. At that time, he did not know that the next day his lifeless body would rest, this time for real, in the same funeral home.