Page 470 of Black Reign

The change is unsettling.

Pierre is technically the heir apparent to the Blackwell dynasty.

Senior treats this less like a family fact and more like an international development project.

Pierre has nannies with advanced degrees from universities I once spent considerable time hacking around.

His science tutor previously worked at CERN.

His chess instructor is a retired grandmaster who initially refused because Pierre was three.

My father-in-law sent a car.

The grandmaster came.

Pierre beat him for the first time six months later.

Senior keeps a miniature tea service in his Monaco office specifically for Thursdays because Thursday is apparently Grand-père Day.

They have tea.

Fresh scones.

Organic honey because my son inherited that particular preference from me.

And conversations that no five-year-old should be having with a seventy-something billionaire.

Last month I walked in and heard Pierre ask whether vertical integration creates unhealthy incentives in chip manufacturing.

He was eating jam with his fingers at the time.

Two weeks ago, Senior arranged what he called a “playdate.”

It was with the chief executive of one of the world's most advanced semiconductor companies.

I assumed the man was bringing a grandchild.

He did not.

The “playdate” consisted of Pierre, my father-in-law, the CEO, two engineers, a prototype chip package, chocolate milk, and scones.

Pierre came home with a signed nondisclosure agreement.

He cannot legally sign anything.

Senior framed it anyway.

I look at Xavier.

“Your father bought him another processor.”

“I know.”

“He's five.”

“It was an educational gift.”

“It isn't commercially available.”