ExcerptYou wouldn’t think it from looking at me—a glimpse of a thousand dollar business suit, a whiff of French cologne, and a flash of a platinum credit card—but honestly, sometimes my life is hell. I deal with idiots on a daily basis—those thickheaded simpletons of the underbelly who don’t truly appreciate the care that goes into crafting a beautiful Cuban cigar—and it taxes and wears me down.
Some days I think, I’ll quit. I could easily sell my share of the family business for a couple billion dollars and move far, far away. I could easily damn myself, turn myself into the authorities for conducting shady deals for fifteen plus years. I do have a conscience somewhere deep down, although my brothers joke that I sold that a long time ago. I could right the wrongs of all my past deals, take the wealth away from the mob and bestow it back to the people, where it technically belongs—like some kind of urban Robin Hood.
I could do all of these things, if I cared to. Yet at the end of the day when I’m unwinding in my monstrous office with a glass of brandy and tying up the strings of a particularly satisfying business deal, I realize I don’t want to. Why should I stop getting what I want? Why should I stop luxuriating in the fact that I am a chosen one, a god of the skyscrapers? Yes, the path to success may be hell, but I know I’ll always get what I want in the end.
I am the youngest of three well-off brothers, spoiled from birth. Upon my father’s passing my brothers, Zach and Patrick, and I were bequeathed the entirety of his company. Cronus Industries—what a gift to behold! Cronus, which has been in my family for generations, has now expanded to owning the majority of the city. And its bounds seem to be limitless!
Being the oldest and favorite, Zach was given the largest share of my father’s legacy. Honestly, the whole “bigwig executive” routine works for him. Zach has the office with the best view. Zach has the penthouse. He’s married to Hera, an absolute stunner, and he’s fooling around with multiple gorgeous women. He plays the part well, with his blond hair, tan skin, and a megawatt-caliber smile of a two-bit game show host. He’s lightning quick with a witty comeback, and reporters love him. Zach physically represents the company, assuring that Cronus Industries is always presented in a positive light.
When Patrick took over his division of Cronus Industries, I was almost certain he had gotten the short straw in the deal. However, as the world plummeted blindly into a new millennium—the Y2K bug had scared the daylights out of the poor plebian masses—everyone seemed to grasp onto the idea of uniting in camaraderie, and the international division of our father’s company began to show promise. Under Patrick’s watchful gaze from his yacht, Neptune—he rarely conducts business from his office on land—our father’s dream has become a reality. One family can truly begin to “run” the world and its oceans.
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