Chapter 5
Chapter 5: The Ledger
The day after her eighteenth birthday, we went to the bank.
The building was cold.
Polished marble.
Heavy glass doors.
A trust officer in a tailored suit slid a thick folder across the mahogany desk.
"Happy Birthday, Claire," he said.
He opened the file.
The final balance was written in bold black ink.
$11,405,200.
He started talking about portfolios.
Hedge funds.
Yields and returns.
Claire listened quietly.
Her hands rested on her lap, perfectly still.
When he finally paused to take a breath, she spoke.
"I don't want to lock it away," she said.
The banker frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Money is just paper if it doesn't do anything," Claire replied.
She looked at me.
May you like
I nodded.
She was the boss now.
