“We need to have a discussion about your eighteenth birthday.” Alisa’s words echoed in the largest of the five libraries of the Hawthorne House. Shelves, stretching from floor to ceiling, reached the height of two floors, surrounding us with hardbound books and leather-bound volumes, many of them priceless; each one a reminder of the man who had built this room. This house. This dynasty. I could almost imagine the ghost of Tobias Hawthorne watching me as I knelt and ran my palm over the mahogany floorboards, my fingers searching suspiciously along the seams. Finding nothing, I stood up and responded to Alisa’s statement. “Do I have to?” I said. “Is it necessary?” “Legally speaking?” The imposing Alisa Ortega raised one eyebrow as she looked at me. “Yes. You may already be emancipated, but as far as the terms of your inheritance…” “Nothing changes until I turn eighteen,” I said, glancing around the room, trying to decide my next move.
“I won’t receive the inheritance until I’ve lived in the Hawthorne House for a full year.” I knew my lawyer well enough to guess that this was the real issue she wanted to discuss. My birthday was on October eighteenth. I would complete the one-year requirement in the first week of November, making me the richest teenager on the entire planet. Meanwhile, I had other matters I intended to focus my attention on. I had a bet to win. To prevail against another Hawthorne. “In any case…” It was as easy to change the subject with Alisa as it was to derail a high-speed train. “As your birthday approaches, there are some things we should discuss.” I sniffed. “Forty-six billion in total?” And while Alisa looked at me, stunned, I focused my attention on my own mission.