ABIOLA

The shipwreck took everything. Dad's investments and businesses were all lost in one terrible wave.

At the dinner table, I sat. The soft rhythm of chopping filled the room as our new maid, still on trial, carefully sliced vegetables onto my plate to prove herself.

The scent of fresh vegetables lingered in the air. Just then, Dad's phone lit up on the table, its screen glowing sharply against the dim room, breaking the quiet like a sudden knock at the door.

Dad wasn't around to pick up. The phone buzzed again, flashing a Gmail alert across the screen. I glanced at it, hesitated for a second, then picked it up. His passcode? Easy. Everyone at home knew it except the new maid we were trying out for a job.

The message was from the company Dad had just partnered with

"Hello, Mr. Patrick," the message began. "We regret to inform you that there was a shipwreck during a severe storm."

My stomach tightened as I read on.

"The ship hit a large rock," it continued, "and broke apart almost instantly."

After a long and careful investigation, we were able to locate the ship at the bottom of the sea.

We are ashamed to share that all your investments with us, along with every load entrusted to our care, were lost with the ship instantly.

We can only imagine the pain and devastation this brings, and the hardships it may cause for you and your family.  Please know that this loss weighs heavily on us, too.

Despite every hope and effort, we were powerless to prevent this tragedy. And for that, we are deeply sorry.

The moment I finished reading the message, tears came. Hot, quiet, and impossible to stop. I slid under the table, pressing my face into my sleeves, hoping no one would hear my moans.

Mom had warned him. She'd said it more than once Don't put everything into one ship, Patrick. Profit isn't worth the risk. But Dad never listened. He believed in big leaps. And now... this.

His desperation to make huge amounts of money beat us.

I broke down, sobbing the kind of sobs that feel like they're ripping you apart from the inside out. My chest ached with every breath out, and no matter how much I didn't want to, nevertheless, I blamed Dad. I blamed him in the silence between each trembling inhale, out, in the hollow spaces grief carved into me. The hurt ran deeper than words, and I hated that part of me still longed for him even as another part screamed in betrayal.

A footsteps are coming near. The new maid we were still trying out walked in. She paused, maybe unsure of what she was seeing. I didn't look up.

Why had I let myself fall apart this far? Right here, in the open, where someone could see the whole collapse? But unconsciously, I could not control myself anymore

I slowly grabbed a tissue paper from the dining table to wipe away my tears.

"I was okay," I told her in a humble voice, and then I made an effort to grin at her, but very inconvenient. Going back to the subject,