Aliyn Raven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aliyn_raven) wrote2023-01-27 11:38 pm
aliyn_raven) wrote2023-01-27 11:38 pm
Entry tags:
If you go hunting a tiger... (Chapter 5)
Summary: I never wanted to live in their world. They dragged me here by force. Well, let them learn to live in the reality that I will create from their world.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/330893564-if-you-go-hunting-for-a-tiger
https://archiveofourown.org/works/44014216
The visitor turned out to be Chris, who was either Dave's personal gentleman or his secretary. By the way, why Chris and not Christina? If we take into account some additional options for personal assistants... The thought that someone as handsome as Chris could fuck with Dave made me sick. How is Dave blackmailing him?! Or does Chris have Stockholm syndrome from childhood to the point of complete loss of personality?
But nothing, in the social services of Alnorria there are psychologists to work with victims of domestic violence.
Chris brought a photo album with Terrent family cards.
I don't get it, is this compensation? Dave's going into senile dementia and he thinks I'll forget about the attack for this junk? And there's also kidnapping, forcible detention, deprivation of contact with the world... No, he's definitely sick in the head.
"Take this back where you got it,' I told Chris.
"You don't want to see your father's face?" he was amazed. "Find out who your father was?"
"I already know who my father was. I don't give a damn how a scoundrel, a fool, a lazybones and a coward looked."
Chris almost puffed with indignation.
"Then you are the offspring of a scoundrel, a fool, a lazybones and a coward."
"I've lived with that fact for nineteen years," I snorted, "and I'll try to live at least another eighty. My father's problems don't concern me, I'm on my own."
"Don't you dare talk like that about the one who gave you life!"
"I have a complete and absolute right to this," I answered calmly and explained: "There is nothing wrong with abandoning a pregnant bride because love is a perishable and easily replaceable product. But not taking care of a child is a crime. Moreover, to take care of a child, you do not need to meet personally with him and his mother, it is enough to pay half the costs of food, clothes, medical insurance, a nanny, a housekeeper and school. And nothing prevented Albert from paying at least twenty percent of the child's bills in secret from his daddy!" I gave Chris a few moments to comprehend and I added: "Therefore, the dead biker that my granny invented for me as my father is better than a billionaire. No one expects responsibility from a biker initially, starting with a girl who wanted a child and found a male who that was handsome and didn't interfere afterward."
Chris was about to say something, but I interrupted:
"No one can choose their parents, but anyone and everyone is able to choose themselves and make themselves independently of them."
"You don’t know anything about Master Albert to judge him!"
"What ardor!" I appreciated his emotional outburst. All the icy crust he showed the world was gone. And I guessed: "You slept with him?"
Chris twitched, not in outrage, but as it caught him off guard. I nodded:
"If Albert had not been a scoundrel, a fool, a lazybones and a coward, both of you nineteen years ago could have left Terr Kort for any city in Weisserflussland and got married. You might be to adopting children if you need parenthood. And Albert, with his education and experience in management, could find a job that would make you a househusband."
Chris froze with his mouth open. I explained:
"Weisserflussland was the first among all six districts of Alnorria to legalize same-sex marriage. My granny and mother went to demonstrations to the district parliament, after which my grandmother participated in processions in support of the federal referendum. Mother would do it too, but she had died by then. Granny is very proud that there is their contribution to the Alnorrian law on marital equality. I am also proud that my granny and mother did such a good thing."
By the way, where is Terr-Court? I was taken by plane for forty minutes from Weissberg, this is the capital of Weisserflussland. Our country is small, but you can fly over it in only an hour and a half. They flew, judging by the fact that the port was visible from the window of the aircraft, moreover it was docks and other auxiliary parts, to the southeast. Forty minutes flight... Is it somewhere in Montagne Aguzze? But the customs of Joyterr are northern, everyone here speaks only the northern dialect. And Marco said that he grew up in the southern villa, and only after that he got a job in the central one. James started out in the north villa, this is in contrast of Terr-Court. So the central residence is not in the north and not in the south? But I did not hear a Western accent from anyone except Helmut. Although I did not talk to anyone except Dave, his managers, Eleanor, my convoyers and Irma. In the east, they speak the northern and southern dialects, but in a very peculiar way, there the two dialects mix and change, but here everyone has the canonical northern speech.
My granny and mother came to Weissberg from the south after the earthquake, but my mother met Albert in Weissberg. Dave, apparently, didn't allow his son to live far from him. And there is nothing special about studying in the Western dialect at school, and speaking only in the Northern dialect at home.
Can an airplane turn around in flight so that passengers do not feel anything?
But it isn't important. I'm more afraid of the inaction of friends. After all, I sent them letters yesterday. I was unable to send messages through the book reader (I only heard from nerds in the confectionery how to do it, but I didn’t practice, I could mix something up) or did my friends decide that I was fooling around and I don't understand my happiness? Or did they stop being my friends out of envy?
All I have to do is wait for the night, call and find out everything.
These thoughts raced through my head in a second.
And Chris said:
"There is a photograph in your grandmother's apartment, on the mantelpiece. She found on a biker forum the one whom she wrote down as your father. Don't you wonder if he looks like Albert Terrent?"
I thought for a bit and decided it was interesting to know. Chris opened the album to the correct page and handed it to me.
Biker and Albert were very similar. Granny and mother did a great job of finding in the squalor that the Internet was nineteen years old, the right person with the right biography: an orphan from a foster family, where there are many other children and they often change, the biker lived like a tumbleweed, rode out all over the European Union, including our little island, had many friends, but no one who would remember him for more than one day. And he was an Austrian, not an Alnorrian — convenient if you need to cut off all ties, even if the two countries are on the same team.
Granny said that when my father left my mother, out of anger, she destroyed all his photos and deleted the contacts of his friends. This is almost true: there were no photos of Albert Dave Nicholas Terrent and contacts of his acquaintances anywhere, and although my mother and grandmother deleted everything against their will, they were very angry with my father and grandfather.
"The biker is a little prettier," I remarked. Chris pouted, and I flipped through the album from the beginning to Albert's photo, then further. Purely mechanical action, I didn't give a damn what it was, my hands did it and I thought about how my mother and grandmother were looking for a photo so that I could do this vile, sneaky and abusive school task about the family tree. For thirty years now, parents have been demanding a legislative ban on this invasion of privacy, but so far the task remains at the discretion of the school.
Yes, stop. Something is wrong with the album. I went back to the first page and began to read the captions to the photos more carefully. Here it is! Photos from the funeral with dates of life. All the Terrents and related people from other old families died young, rarely lived to be fifty, most of the deaths were between forty and forty-five. Many women died in childbirth or shortly thereafter. What was supposed to happen to the health of these women and why did their deaths not cause a scandal throughout the country? Even if an illegal migrant does not receive full-fledged assistance during childbirth in a free clinic, the press, feminists and human rights activists bury the Ministry of Health three meters underground, and the rich themselves well can sue. But there was no such news. Or I don't know? I never followed the news about the life of the rich and famous. And this is after WWII in Europe, and even more so at the beginning of the 21st century!
And Dave among this legion of early deaths reached eighty-two years. Еhis isn't old age by modern standards, even my neighbors are full of those who are cheerful and active people at ninety-six, and here are people with big money, who, all the more, should live a very long time and in good health. Blood marriages over many generations do not contribute to longevity, but modern medicine is no joke either. So why did only Dave survive?
I wanted to look in the album for photos of related families, to check the dates of life, but Chris took the album from me. Well, okay. I don't give a damn. All this is none of my business. All I need is to cross my fingers for my own long life and quickly return my inheritance.
My stomach growled. Because of this laundering hassle, I missed lunch, or, as they say here, second breakfast.
"We'll bring you sandwiches and tea," James said.
"No," I replied. "Let your Eleanor, Dave and other scums not expect me to hide. Bring meat soup and green salad to the dining room."
"There is no soup now. Everything prepared for the second breakfast was over, and dinner was not yet prepared. It will be served only after two hours, so they will start cooking in an hour."
"We'll bring you sandwiches and tea," James said.
"No," I replied. "Let your Eleanor, Dave and other scums don't expect me to hide. Bring meat soup and green salad to the dining room."
"There is no soup now. Everything prepared for the second breakfast was over, and dinner was not yet prepared. It will not be served until six o'clock in the afternoon, so they will start cooking after evening tea. If you want to go to the dining room, wait for half past three."
"Well, order Tom Kha Gai at a Thai cafe," I said.
James stared at me as if I had demanded that Joyterr be blown up. And Raoul said:
"Ladies don’t eat common people's foods. And they don't all the more so order takeout."
"Then go to the kitchen and make crayfish soup in twenty minutes. This is the delivery time from the cafe. And then explain the fundamental difference between Soupe Aux Écrevisses and Tom Yum. Time spent in the kitchen doesn't count."
It was a hard blow. French zealots of traditions are furious that Thai and Chinese cuisine in France has greatly supplanted French cuisine precisely due to the speed and ease of preparation in the presence of the taste familiar to the French. Raul burned me with an angry look. I smiled sweetly in response and advised to hurry. Raul answered stubbornly:
"A meal in the dining room without the Chairman is impossible."
"Did I ask you to cook soup with him?" I asked mockingly.
"Gerrin…" Helmut began, but I interrupted.
"Soup and green vegetable salad in the dining room. And make a list of my father's assets: chattels, immovables, trust funds, stocks."
"It needs permission from the President, little Miss," said James. "And there are rules a lady follows. If you are late for a family meal, you can eat in your apartment, but don't require a separate meal for you in the dining room. And you, little Miss, need to learn how to walk, dress, talk and smile like a lady. You must have a meaningful and ladylike judgment on all the social events of the last two months. Miss Eleanor is a recognized leader among the wives and daughters of Alnorria's business elite, and it will be very difficult to outshine her. And you only have a week to prepare."
"What for delirium?!" I was outraged. "I am the heir to a financial empire, and at the ball, I have to make judgments about the stock price in business people's society, and not discuss movie stars with bad tools. Or at least it is necessary to show the business world that I see the directions of development of the TGS and delve into its problems and achievements."
"Signorina, you are too young and inexperienced for such conversations," said Marco. "You need…"
"I need to show how quickly I learn everything, since I have homeschooled, and not at business school. By the way, why is Eleanor studying here, and not in the Ivy League or Raison Hall?"
This is an Allnorrian business college, very intelligent, and is in demand and authority throughout the European Union.
"She didn't do well at the boarding school," Marco replied. "And she didn't go to college."
"And I didn't even go to high school, although I tried to pass the exams. How will Dave explain this by declaring me the heiress of a conglomerate?"
"You still have time to learn how to evaluate the decisions of top managers who have earned honors degrees from Raison Hall and the Ivy League."
"Exactly!" I said. "I need training with top managers, or at least with an accountant, and not any crap."
"But…"
"If Dave doesn’t like it, let him give me back my father’s property, and we will forget about each other. And you remember that he came to me. I didn't know my father was Albert Dave Nicholas Terrent and not Ernie Otto Blum. But now I have reason to sue Dave for inheritance fraud."
It's a pity I didn't think to say it at that meeting with the lawyer that turned my whole life upside down. I forgot, I didn't figure out. Still, the lack of education (and brains!) greatly complicates life.
"Guerrina," said Helmut, "management has its own language, and it isn't impossible to understand it in a week."
"I studied the language of finance, advertising and law for a year at school, then two years in one professional course, then another. Not as deep and good as at the university, but enough to understand when a lawyer, an investment adviser and an ad agency are working effectively, and when they are just trying to squeeze money out of me. I understand something in matters of divorce, alimony and inheritance too."
My convoyers and Chris, who had been educated in Dave's beloved domain, stared at me in amazement. The results of real learning came as a surprise to them. And I said:
"However, to the point. Serve lunch in the dining room and bring a list of my father's possessions."
"That's impossible…" James began, but Chris cut him off.
"You’ll be served beef broth with ham, cottage cheese, egg, and toast if you don't mind. This is the only thing that can be cooked in fifteen minutes. The rest will take time. And, of course, the green vegetable salad will also be, like tea."
"Good," I nodded, noting that this soup is popular in the western districts, name is Mittagaufdemfeld or, for simplicity, Mitfe, which Chris for some reason described by composition, and did not name it. I don't know what that means, but in enemy territory, any little thing can be useful.
My convoyers wanted to say something, almost seething with anger, but didn't dare to object to Chris. And he said to me:
"You'd better talk to the Chairman about your father's affairs. I will make an appointment with you shortly. It's about tomorrow after lunch."
"Okay," I was a little surprised that Chris suddenly began to help me, but what do reasons matter? The main thing is to quickly get out of here and take my things.
And now I need to eat. And I should talk to Eleanor. Chris sent a message to someone and invited me to the dining room. On the way, I asked him where Eleanor's room was.
"She can't accept you. And this cannot be changed. I'm sorry. But don't worry about that, Mx, she's anyway not capable of communicating."
[She got drunk or something?] I thought in surprise.
However, in the dining room, Eleanor sat at the head of the table, and her lackeys stood behind her. And, judging by the muffled exclamations of Chris and the convoyers, this event was more than non-trivial. I remembered that in the morning Dave forbade her to leave her room. Did they all seriously think that she would do such an absurdity?
And also Eleanor has supporters in Joyterr. They told her about the dining room.
But I don't care about all that. I sat down at the opposite end of the table and said:
"You have supporters on the board of directors too. The sooner I take my father's property and leave here, the sooner you will be the only heir to TGS. Get the board to put pressure on Dave."
"The bastard spawn of a plebeian slut will never become the mistress of noble possessions. She will not touch the jewelry of lawful wives."
I just snorted. Eleanor can shove a cheap trap up her ass. And I answered:
"I'll take the cost of the villa, blings and paintings in money. It's even easier for me. Dave and I will call independent appraisers and get everything done quickly."
"I won't let the dirt take the money my future son will inherit."
Wow, is she pregnant? And the exemplary virtuous lady made a child without a husband? And my convoyers and Chris are not at all surprised. But that's not my problem. There is more important news.
"The TGS conglomerate is on the verge of ruin if a stinking thirty six million brangs are a problem for it?" They stared at me like I was a ghost. It seems that I estimated the amount of the inheritance accurately. But this task is not the discovery of the law of universal gravitation, a lot of intelligence is not needed for it, why are they surprised? However, it doesn't matter, and I asked about the really important:
"How many years has TGS ended the year with losses? And why hasn't a more successful corporation bought it yet?"
*****
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/330893564-if-you-go-hunting-for-a-tiger
https://archiveofourown.org/works/44014216
The visitor turned out to be Chris, who was either Dave's personal gentleman or his secretary. By the way, why Chris and not Christina? If we take into account some additional options for personal assistants... The thought that someone as handsome as Chris could fuck with Dave made me sick. How is Dave blackmailing him?! Or does Chris have Stockholm syndrome from childhood to the point of complete loss of personality?
But nothing, in the social services of Alnorria there are psychologists to work with victims of domestic violence.
Chris brought a photo album with Terrent family cards.
I don't get it, is this compensation? Dave's going into senile dementia and he thinks I'll forget about the attack for this junk? And there's also kidnapping, forcible detention, deprivation of contact with the world... No, he's definitely sick in the head.
"Take this back where you got it,' I told Chris.
"You don't want to see your father's face?" he was amazed. "Find out who your father was?"
"I already know who my father was. I don't give a damn how a scoundrel, a fool, a lazybones and a coward looked."
Chris almost puffed with indignation.
"Then you are the offspring of a scoundrel, a fool, a lazybones and a coward."
"I've lived with that fact for nineteen years," I snorted, "and I'll try to live at least another eighty. My father's problems don't concern me, I'm on my own."
"Don't you dare talk like that about the one who gave you life!"
"I have a complete and absolute right to this," I answered calmly and explained: "There is nothing wrong with abandoning a pregnant bride because love is a perishable and easily replaceable product. But not taking care of a child is a crime. Moreover, to take care of a child, you do not need to meet personally with him and his mother, it is enough to pay half the costs of food, clothes, medical insurance, a nanny, a housekeeper and school. And nothing prevented Albert from paying at least twenty percent of the child's bills in secret from his daddy!" I gave Chris a few moments to comprehend and I added: "Therefore, the dead biker that my granny invented for me as my father is better than a billionaire. No one expects responsibility from a biker initially, starting with a girl who wanted a child and found a male who that was handsome and didn't interfere afterward."
Chris was about to say something, but I interrupted:
"No one can choose their parents, but anyone and everyone is able to choose themselves and make themselves independently of them."
"You don’t know anything about Master Albert to judge him!"
"What ardor!" I appreciated his emotional outburst. All the icy crust he showed the world was gone. And I guessed: "You slept with him?"
Chris twitched, not in outrage, but as it caught him off guard. I nodded:
"If Albert had not been a scoundrel, a fool, a lazybones and a coward, both of you nineteen years ago could have left Terr Kort for any city in Weisserflussland and got married. You might be to adopting children if you need parenthood. And Albert, with his education and experience in management, could find a job that would make you a househusband."
Chris froze with his mouth open. I explained:
"Weisserflussland was the first among all six districts of Alnorria to legalize same-sex marriage. My granny and mother went to demonstrations to the district parliament, after which my grandmother participated in processions in support of the federal referendum. Mother would do it too, but she had died by then. Granny is very proud that there is their contribution to the Alnorrian law on marital equality. I am also proud that my granny and mother did such a good thing."
By the way, where is Terr-Court? I was taken by plane for forty minutes from Weissberg, this is the capital of Weisserflussland. Our country is small, but you can fly over it in only an hour and a half. They flew, judging by the fact that the port was visible from the window of the aircraft, moreover it was docks and other auxiliary parts, to the southeast. Forty minutes flight... Is it somewhere in Montagne Aguzze? But the customs of Joyterr are northern, everyone here speaks only the northern dialect. And Marco said that he grew up in the southern villa, and only after that he got a job in the central one. James started out in the north villa, this is in contrast of Terr-Court. So the central residence is not in the north and not in the south? But I did not hear a Western accent from anyone except Helmut. Although I did not talk to anyone except Dave, his managers, Eleanor, my convoyers and Irma. In the east, they speak the northern and southern dialects, but in a very peculiar way, there the two dialects mix and change, but here everyone has the canonical northern speech.
My granny and mother came to Weissberg from the south after the earthquake, but my mother met Albert in Weissberg. Dave, apparently, didn't allow his son to live far from him. And there is nothing special about studying in the Western dialect at school, and speaking only in the Northern dialect at home.
Can an airplane turn around in flight so that passengers do not feel anything?
But it isn't important. I'm more afraid of the inaction of friends. After all, I sent them letters yesterday. I was unable to send messages through the book reader (I only heard from nerds in the confectionery how to do it, but I didn’t practice, I could mix something up) or did my friends decide that I was fooling around and I don't understand my happiness? Or did they stop being my friends out of envy?
All I have to do is wait for the night, call and find out everything.
These thoughts raced through my head in a second.
And Chris said:
"There is a photograph in your grandmother's apartment, on the mantelpiece. She found on a biker forum the one whom she wrote down as your father. Don't you wonder if he looks like Albert Terrent?"
I thought for a bit and decided it was interesting to know. Chris opened the album to the correct page and handed it to me.
Biker and Albert were very similar. Granny and mother did a great job of finding in the squalor that the Internet was nineteen years old, the right person with the right biography: an orphan from a foster family, where there are many other children and they often change, the biker lived like a tumbleweed, rode out all over the European Union, including our little island, had many friends, but no one who would remember him for more than one day. And he was an Austrian, not an Alnorrian — convenient if you need to cut off all ties, even if the two countries are on the same team.
Granny said that when my father left my mother, out of anger, she destroyed all his photos and deleted the contacts of his friends. This is almost true: there were no photos of Albert Dave Nicholas Terrent and contacts of his acquaintances anywhere, and although my mother and grandmother deleted everything against their will, they were very angry with my father and grandfather.
"The biker is a little prettier," I remarked. Chris pouted, and I flipped through the album from the beginning to Albert's photo, then further. Purely mechanical action, I didn't give a damn what it was, my hands did it and I thought about how my mother and grandmother were looking for a photo so that I could do this vile, sneaky and abusive school task about the family tree. For thirty years now, parents have been demanding a legislative ban on this invasion of privacy, but so far the task remains at the discretion of the school.
Yes, stop. Something is wrong with the album. I went back to the first page and began to read the captions to the photos more carefully. Here it is! Photos from the funeral with dates of life. All the Terrents and related people from other old families died young, rarely lived to be fifty, most of the deaths were between forty and forty-five. Many women died in childbirth or shortly thereafter. What was supposed to happen to the health of these women and why did their deaths not cause a scandal throughout the country? Even if an illegal migrant does not receive full-fledged assistance during childbirth in a free clinic, the press, feminists and human rights activists bury the Ministry of Health three meters underground, and the rich themselves well can sue. But there was no such news. Or I don't know? I never followed the news about the life of the rich and famous. And this is after WWII in Europe, and even more so at the beginning of the 21st century!
And Dave among this legion of early deaths reached eighty-two years. Еhis isn't old age by modern standards, even my neighbors are full of those who are cheerful and active people at ninety-six, and here are people with big money, who, all the more, should live a very long time and in good health. Blood marriages over many generations do not contribute to longevity, but modern medicine is no joke either. So why did only Dave survive?
I wanted to look in the album for photos of related families, to check the dates of life, but Chris took the album from me. Well, okay. I don't give a damn. All this is none of my business. All I need is to cross my fingers for my own long life and quickly return my inheritance.
My stomach growled. Because of this laundering hassle, I missed lunch, or, as they say here, second breakfast.
"We'll bring you sandwiches and tea," James said.
"No," I replied. "Let your Eleanor, Dave and other scums not expect me to hide. Bring meat soup and green salad to the dining room."
"There is no soup now. Everything prepared for the second breakfast was over, and dinner was not yet prepared. It will be served only after two hours, so they will start cooking in an hour."
"We'll bring you sandwiches and tea," James said.
"No," I replied. "Let your Eleanor, Dave and other scums don't expect me to hide. Bring meat soup and green salad to the dining room."
"There is no soup now. Everything prepared for the second breakfast was over, and dinner was not yet prepared. It will not be served until six o'clock in the afternoon, so they will start cooking after evening tea. If you want to go to the dining room, wait for half past three."
"Well, order Tom Kha Gai at a Thai cafe," I said.
James stared at me as if I had demanded that Joyterr be blown up. And Raoul said:
"Ladies don’t eat common people's foods. And they don't all the more so order takeout."
"Then go to the kitchen and make crayfish soup in twenty minutes. This is the delivery time from the cafe. And then explain the fundamental difference between Soupe Aux Écrevisses and Tom Yum. Time spent in the kitchen doesn't count."
It was a hard blow. French zealots of traditions are furious that Thai and Chinese cuisine in France has greatly supplanted French cuisine precisely due to the speed and ease of preparation in the presence of the taste familiar to the French. Raul burned me with an angry look. I smiled sweetly in response and advised to hurry. Raul answered stubbornly:
"A meal in the dining room without the Chairman is impossible."
"Did I ask you to cook soup with him?" I asked mockingly.
"Gerrin…" Helmut began, but I interrupted.
"Soup and green vegetable salad in the dining room. And make a list of my father's assets: chattels, immovables, trust funds, stocks."
"It needs permission from the President, little Miss," said James. "And there are rules a lady follows. If you are late for a family meal, you can eat in your apartment, but don't require a separate meal for you in the dining room. And you, little Miss, need to learn how to walk, dress, talk and smile like a lady. You must have a meaningful and ladylike judgment on all the social events of the last two months. Miss Eleanor is a recognized leader among the wives and daughters of Alnorria's business elite, and it will be very difficult to outshine her. And you only have a week to prepare."
"What for delirium?!" I was outraged. "I am the heir to a financial empire, and at the ball, I have to make judgments about the stock price in business people's society, and not discuss movie stars with bad tools. Or at least it is necessary to show the business world that I see the directions of development of the TGS and delve into its problems and achievements."
"Signorina, you are too young and inexperienced for such conversations," said Marco. "You need…"
"I need to show how quickly I learn everything, since I have homeschooled, and not at business school. By the way, why is Eleanor studying here, and not in the Ivy League or Raison Hall?"
This is an Allnorrian business college, very intelligent, and is in demand and authority throughout the European Union.
"She didn't do well at the boarding school," Marco replied. "And she didn't go to college."
"And I didn't even go to high school, although I tried to pass the exams. How will Dave explain this by declaring me the heiress of a conglomerate?"
"You still have time to learn how to evaluate the decisions of top managers who have earned honors degrees from Raison Hall and the Ivy League."
"Exactly!" I said. "I need training with top managers, or at least with an accountant, and not any crap."
"But…"
"If Dave doesn’t like it, let him give me back my father’s property, and we will forget about each other. And you remember that he came to me. I didn't know my father was Albert Dave Nicholas Terrent and not Ernie Otto Blum. But now I have reason to sue Dave for inheritance fraud."
It's a pity I didn't think to say it at that meeting with the lawyer that turned my whole life upside down. I forgot, I didn't figure out. Still, the lack of education (and brains!) greatly complicates life.
"Guerrina," said Helmut, "management has its own language, and it isn't impossible to understand it in a week."
"I studied the language of finance, advertising and law for a year at school, then two years in one professional course, then another. Not as deep and good as at the university, but enough to understand when a lawyer, an investment adviser and an ad agency are working effectively, and when they are just trying to squeeze money out of me. I understand something in matters of divorce, alimony and inheritance too."
My convoyers and Chris, who had been educated in Dave's beloved domain, stared at me in amazement. The results of real learning came as a surprise to them. And I said:
"However, to the point. Serve lunch in the dining room and bring a list of my father's possessions."
"That's impossible…" James began, but Chris cut him off.
"You’ll be served beef broth with ham, cottage cheese, egg, and toast if you don't mind. This is the only thing that can be cooked in fifteen minutes. The rest will take time. And, of course, the green vegetable salad will also be, like tea."
"Good," I nodded, noting that this soup is popular in the western districts, name is Mittagaufdemfeld or, for simplicity, Mitfe, which Chris for some reason described by composition, and did not name it. I don't know what that means, but in enemy territory, any little thing can be useful.
My convoyers wanted to say something, almost seething with anger, but didn't dare to object to Chris. And he said to me:
"You'd better talk to the Chairman about your father's affairs. I will make an appointment with you shortly. It's about tomorrow after lunch."
"Okay," I was a little surprised that Chris suddenly began to help me, but what do reasons matter? The main thing is to quickly get out of here and take my things.
And now I need to eat. And I should talk to Eleanor. Chris sent a message to someone and invited me to the dining room. On the way, I asked him where Eleanor's room was.
"She can't accept you. And this cannot be changed. I'm sorry. But don't worry about that, Mx, she's anyway not capable of communicating."
[She got drunk or something?] I thought in surprise.
However, in the dining room, Eleanor sat at the head of the table, and her lackeys stood behind her. And, judging by the muffled exclamations of Chris and the convoyers, this event was more than non-trivial. I remembered that in the morning Dave forbade her to leave her room. Did they all seriously think that she would do such an absurdity?
And also Eleanor has supporters in Joyterr. They told her about the dining room.
But I don't care about all that. I sat down at the opposite end of the table and said:
"You have supporters on the board of directors too. The sooner I take my father's property and leave here, the sooner you will be the only heir to TGS. Get the board to put pressure on Dave."
"The bastard spawn of a plebeian slut will never become the mistress of noble possessions. She will not touch the jewelry of lawful wives."
I just snorted. Eleanor can shove a cheap trap up her ass. And I answered:
"I'll take the cost of the villa, blings and paintings in money. It's even easier for me. Dave and I will call independent appraisers and get everything done quickly."
"I won't let the dirt take the money my future son will inherit."
Wow, is she pregnant? And the exemplary virtuous lady made a child without a husband? And my convoyers and Chris are not at all surprised. But that's not my problem. There is more important news.
"The TGS conglomerate is on the verge of ruin if a stinking thirty six million brangs are a problem for it?" They stared at me like I was a ghost. It seems that I estimated the amount of the inheritance accurately. But this task is not the discovery of the law of universal gravitation, a lot of intelligence is not needed for it, why are they surprised? However, it doesn't matter, and I asked about the really important:
"How many years has TGS ended the year with losses? And why hasn't a more successful corporation bought it yet?"
*****
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.