“Well, … from all of us. Jacob has grown very close to her over the years, and I think it’s a good idea. It’s been hard for her to fit in with the extended family, and this is a step in the right direction.”
“That’s bullshit. If they don’t accept her now, then they don’t deserve her.”
“I agree, but it’s complicated. Bloodlines are very important to them. A large trust fund is given to Roth children. If Jacob doesn’t adopt Lindsey before her eighteenth birthday, she’ll be ineligible for the trust fund.”
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “It’s always about money.”
“No, this is about Lindsey.”
“We could’ve made it. You didn’t have to leave.”
“Derek, stop.”
“I’m still hangin’ on here. We could’ve been happy. We wouldn’t be rich, but we would’ve been happy.”
“Let’s not do this. It was eight years ago. What’s done is done.”
“Are you happy?” Derek paced, his gaze on the ground.
“This isn’t about me.”
“Answer the question.”
Rebecca hesitated for a beat. “Yes. I’m very happy.”
“I guess it all worked out for you then.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t make me feel guilty for taking responsibility for my life.”
“Responsibility? That’s priceless comin’ from someone who doesn’t have to work. Shit, you don’t even have to be a mom with that robot.”
“How dare you. You have no idea. I left because I wanted more for my life, but you were happy with the status quo. And now you’re holding back our daughter. She’ll be set for life. She’ll be able to do whatever she wants to do. Don’t you want that for her?”
“She’s my only child. I don’t wanna lose her,” Derek said.
“All the more reason to do what’s best for her,” Rebecca replied.
“I wanna talk to her.”
“She getting ready for school.”
“You want me to sign her over, like a used car, and I can’t even talk to her for five minutes?”
Rebecca let out a breath. “Fine. Hold on.”
A minute later, Lindsey spoke with a tremor in her voice, “Hello? Dad?”
“Hey, honey. Your mom told me about the adoption. Is this what you want?” Derek felt a lump forming in his throat.
Lindsey hesitated for a moment. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
“But you do want Jacob to adopt you?”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I wish I would’ve been a better …” Derek swallowed hard. “I have to go.”
“Then you’ll let Jacob adopt me?”
“It’s a big decision. Can I think about it?”
“Yeah.” Disappointment was evident in her voice.
“I have to go.” Derek disconnected the call and started to throw his phone in frustration but thought better of it midwindup. He didn’t have the money for a replacement.
6
Jacob and the Bilderberg Meeting
The Grove Hotel was only eighteen miles from London, yet isolated on three hundred acres of Hertfordshire countryside. The hotel was once a mansion, the former home of the Earls of Clarendon. The exterior had been impeccably restored to its eighteenth-century glory, with the inside updated to cater to the most discerning guest.
Jacob stood in the ornate lobby, watching the hallway as a few attendees filtered out. Twenty minutes ago, it had been like a who’s who of power players. Kings, queens, princes, prime ministers, premiers, commissioners, CEOs, central bankers, government ministers, chancellors, congresspeople, senators, and cabinet members. Security was tight. It had taken Jacob nearly an hour to go through three checkpoints and two searches.
The attendees fell into one of three categories: old banking money, politicians bought by said old banking money, and up-and-comers. The up and comers were the wild cards, the people with the potential to upset the established power structure. They were invited and shown the hierarchy, given the opportunity to benefit from the can’t-lose system.
There’d been rogue elites, against the status quo, but they’d never had enough power to effectively oppose the families who owned the world. These families could give away their money and their land and then, with a few taps on a keyboard, buy it back again.
This year, three up-and-comers were the prime ones to watch: Zhang Jun, the CEO of the Bank of China (North American Division); Corrinne Powers, the Democratic senator from Virginia, probably the next POTUS; and Truman Bradshaw, the CEO of Thorium Unlimited, the growing worldwide energy supplier. Of the three, Truman Bradshaw posed the biggest threat to the existing power structure.
Jacob checked his watch again—7:18. The last session of the Bilderberg Meeting finished at seven, but still he saw no sign of his brothers or his father. He’d tried texting them but got no response. They were supposed to meet in the lobby at seven, but maybe he’d misunderstood. They were supposed to have dinner in the hotel, but maybe they’d gone to London.
Or more likely they were networking with important people, too busy to bother returning his texts. Jacob felt like a puppy waiting for his owner. He continued to watch the hallway as attendees filtered out. Only the elite of the elite were invited. Jacob would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall. He’d been invited to the hotel by his father, but Jacob’s status as CEO of a failing government-sponsored enterprise wasn’t prestigious enough to garner an invite to the meeting.
Jacob finally saw his father, Nathan, walking down the hallway with Randal Montgomery. Jacob smoothed his suit and straightened his tie. The Democratic congressman from South Carolina shook Nathan’s hand with a big grin, then walked past Jacob, as if he were invisible.
Jacob approached and said, “Father.”
Nathan narrowed his dark eyes, looking down on his son. “Jacob.” They shook hands. Nathan was average-size, but still taller than Jacob by two inches. He had big bushy eyebrows, thinning grayish-white hair, and a perpetually downturned mouth that rarely smiled in Jacob’s company.
“How did it go today?” Jacob asked.
Nathan nodded ruefully. “Much work needs to be done. Still many opponents to the world peace we’ve engineered.”
Laughing came from the hall. Jacob’s brothers, Mayer and Eric, appeared with Truman Bradshaw, all smiles and dissipating laughter. Mayer and Eric wore dark suits, as did most attendees, but Truman wore a purple polo and khakis. This wasn’t surprising. Truman had a reputation for nonconformity. They said their goodbyes and shook hands.
Truman exited the hotel, and the brothers approached Jacob and Nathan. Mayer, the eldest, was tall, dark-haired, and handsome. Eric, the youngest, had an average build, with a small paunch and a squinty smile. Unfortunately Jacob, the middle son, looked more like Eric.
“Jacob,” Mayer said, still grinning. “How was your flight?”
“Long,” Jacob replied, accepting a hug from his older brother.
“Didn’t you fly hypersonic?” Eric asked. “It’s only an hour and a half flight from New York to London.”
“I’m not rich like you.”
“Come on.” Eric knitted his brows. “You can’t tell me that the CEO of Housing Trust can’t afford a hypersonic flight.”
“I can afford a lot of things. That doesn’t make it prudent to buy them,” Jacob replied.
“Touché, brother.” Eric hugged Jacob.
The Roth men settled around a square table in the hotel restaurant. Aptly named the Glasshouse, the restaurant boasted floor-to-ceiling glass windows along the length of the building. Despite the darkness outside, tasteful lighting illuminated a nice view of the kitchen garden and formal pools. A spattering of Bilderberg attendees were also in the restaurant, but the parties were seated discreetly, and everyone kept to themselves, adhering to the unspoken rule: what happens in the Bilderberg Meetings stays in the Bilderberg Meetings.