ROWON's fall

"Chris?" Jeff Ringston, ROWON's executive secretary, called out in a low and unmotivated voice.

"Yes, Mr. Ringston, what is it?" Chris Rowon replied as he stood on the rooftop of his mansion, staring at the stars.

"Come to GL Hospital," Jeff told him as he sat on a chair outside a private room at the hospital.

"Why? What happened?" Chris asked, a growing unease settling in his chest.

"Hurry up. Your father needs you." 

Hearing that, Chris rushed downstairs, hopped into his car, and drove aimlessly at high speed.

'Please, not today!' Chris thought as a tear dropped from his cheek.

He arrived at GL Hospital, finding journalists swarming the entrance. As he tried to push through them, one journalist recognized him.

"Chris Rowon! What was the exact cause of the accident involving your father?" a male journalist asked.

"Accident!?" Chris' body froze upon hearing the word.

His mind reeled as he pushed past them, forcing his way inside, his heartbeat erratic.

Chris could barely breathe. The air felt thick, pressing against his lungs as he stared at the receptionist with wide, frantic eyes.

"Where is he? Where the hell is my dad!" Panic tore at his throat as he spoke, trying to figure out where all the pieces are lying.

"Pprivate room 409," the receptionist said after noticing his expression.

Not waiting to listen to anything else, Chris started moving as if he was being controlled by a puppet on strings. The remaining pieces that were not in panic were racing far too quickly than the feet being put in motion. Fragments of denial, blended with fear and hope kept repeating to him that this cannot be happening. Not father. Not today.

Now in front of the room, Chris checked the surrounding area where Jeff was sitting. When he did check, Jeff was already sitting with his head hiding in hands. Noticing Chris's approach, this older gentleman raised his head but as Chris presumed somewhere in his head, the vibrant color had slipped away. "It's alright Jeff," Jeff began, but Chris had quickly interjected him by impatiently slamming the door to the room open.

Everywhere inside was filled with the life-threatening beeps of the machines which served as a reminder of how frail a human being's life can be. Connected to agony was deep in slumber Daniel Rowon, wires and tubes of a synchronized pathetic dance decoratively intertwined around a hospital bed. The pale skin along with shallow breath possible by a mouth open wide, kept him comfy, for within the so-called 'bed' the omniscient man whose flesh and blood was stronger, The great man whose destined name was the unshakable ruler of the empire titled, once.

Chris' knees buckled at the sight.

"Dad..." his voice was barely a whisper, but Daniel's eyelids fluttered open at the sound.

Chris stepped forward, taking his father's frail hand in his own. It was cold. Too cold. Daniel's lips curled slightly into a weak smile.

"You came," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Good... son."

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat. "Don't talk like that. You're going to be okay. The doctors—"

Daniel squeezed his hand, cutting him off. "Listen... there isn't much time."

Chris shook his head violently. "No. Don't say that. You're going to fight. You have to."

A long pause. Then, his father gave a weak chuckle. "Fighting... I've been doing it my whole life, son. Building, protecting, providing. But now... it's your turn."

Chris felt his heart stop.

"You mean the company?" His fingers tightened around his father's hand. "I'm not ready. I—"

"You are." His father's voice was soft but firm. "The business... our name... it's yours now."

Chris wanted to protest, wanted to tell his father that he wasn't ready, that he was just a young boy standing in the shadow of a giant. But the words wouldn't come. Because deep down, he knew. This wasn't a choice.

Daniel's eyes met his son's one last time, full of pride, sorrow, and acceptance. Then, the beeping on the monitor slowed.

Chris held his breath. "Dad?"

The last rise of his father's chest. The last whisper of breath. The monitor let out a long, piercing sound.

Chris felt his entire world shatter. "No... no, no, NO!" He grabbed his father's shoulders, shaking him as if he could force him to stay. But there was no stopping the inevitable.

The door burst open as doctors rushed in. Jeff tried to pull Chris away, but he fought, screaming, sobbing, refusing to let go.

But it was over.

Daniel Rowon was gone.

The next few days were a blur.

The funeral was grand, befitting a man of his stature. Hundreds attended, from powerful business figures to employees who had worked under him for decades. But Chris barely noticed them. He stood at the gravesite, staring at the casket as it was lowered into the earth.

Each shovelful of dirt that fell was like a hammer to his chest. The end of an era. The weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders.

He heard voices around him, whispers of condolences, murmurs of respect. But none of it mattered. Nothing felt real.

"Chris," Jeff placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice gentle. "It's time to go."

But how could he leave? How could he walk away when it felt like his father had been buried along with everything he had ever known?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned away, his jaw clenched, his fists tight. The pain wasn't gone. It would never be gone. But something else had settled in his chest now.

A promise.

The Rowon name would not fade. His father's legacy would not crumble.

As he walked back to the car, a voice called out his name.

"Chris Rowon! What will happen to ROWON Enterprises now?"

He turned to see a swarm of reporters, their cameras flashing, their microphones extended toward him. The world was watching, waiting.

Another reporter stepped forward. "Some sources claim you lack the experience to lead such a large empire. Do you think you can handle it?"

Chris inhaled sharply, steadying himself. He wiped the last of his tears away and met their gazes with steel in his eyes.

"The company is mine now," he said, his voice unwavering. "And I'll make damn sure it stays standing."

As the cameras flashed and questions poured in, Chris turned away, stepping into his car. The weight of the world had just fallen on his shoulders.

And there was no turning back.

End of Chapter 1.