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“You don’t need more staff.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
She swallows. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s there to understand? One of the ladies who cleans my house is taking some time off. You will replace her.”
She looks down at the floor and back up.
“I mean, if you don’t want to go to school,” I continue, shrugging as if the situation cannot be helped, “I’m sure you can take online courses . . .”
“No. I want to go in person. Fine,” she mutters, looking utterly defeated.
It’s not as satisfying as I thought it’d be.
“Good.” I nod. “With that settled, there are only a few more things.”
“There’s more?”
“Yes.”
She lets out a long-drawn-out sigh. “What else?”
“I need you to prove you deserve this,” I tell her matter-of-factly.
She bites her lip. “You lost me.”
“I need you to prove that you deserve twenty-two million dollars.”
She frowns. “And how exactly will I be doing that when I didn’t know I had twenty-two million dollars?”
“You need to prove yourself to me. For example, you will need to prove you’re smart.”
Her eyes roll. “I’m in college.”
“Yeah. And that means jack shit to me. Anyone can go to college. That doesn’t mean you’re smart. I need you to prove you won’t squander the money. Prove you are deserving. Going to college and taking classes are only one part of an education. You need to be well-versed in life. Every week, I will expect you to read and study historians and philosophers.”
“Um. Hard pass.” She shakes her head. “I’m not doing that. I already have a full load with my business classes.”
“This isn’t up for negotiation. You will read what I tell you to read, and you will submit a paper on what you learned.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m not doing that.”
“You know where the door is.” I shrug. “Your choice, princess.”
There is no decision to be made. She will do exactly what I want. She knows it, and I know it.
I stare down at her, daring her to argue again.
She lets out a large huff. “Fuck, you need to check your cereal. I’m going to spit in every single one of your dishes.”
“I’ll eat out. The papers you will submit will be your homework.”
“Homework? I’m not five.”
The look I give her suggests otherwise.
“Yep,” I say, popping the P. “You know, that thing teachers give to make sure their kids retained information. By completing the assignment, you’re proving to me that you are, in fact, serious about your education.”
