Could be worse. Just a Joke. Your brother shows up.

“Did the police or anyone called?” you ask your father without much hope while trying to relax a little, “I would like to … plan mothers funeral as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry about that, my child,” your father says calm, “I have people taking care of this. But if you want to add a personal touch, I will tell them to call you. As for the investigation, the police needs some time. Autopsy and such stuff take a while. But a … friend at the station keeps me informed. If anything happens, I know it before everyone else.”

You are not sure what to answer. On the one hand, you are glad somebody takes care of everything, but on the other hand, you don’t like strangers doing everything. And your father just admitted that he bribes a cop from your old hometown for information. You wonder how many people watched you in the past.

Your thoughts are interrupted when suddenly William appears in the dining room. He walks straight to the table. His clothes are not much better than yours.

“Morning, dad,” William greets sleepy and sits down on the opposite of the table to face you.

He is clearly not happy that you are here and that he ignores you shows you that he still doesn’t likes you. Well, it would have been a wonder.

“William, since when are you up before lunch?” your father asks surprised, “not that I mind having breakfast with my children. But this is … unusual.”

“Just want to remind you, you have more kids than this … >girl<,” your brother replies.

An icy silence followed until the maid appears with your food. You are stunned by the huge selection. Ham, cheese, fried bacon, an egg, two slices of toast, butter, three small bowls with different jam and honey, two pieces of fruit and even a cup of tea.

“Holy shit,” you call out shocked, “am I supposed to eat all this? I’m going to get fat.”

“How the hell did you survived the last years?” William asks annoyed, “hey bitch, get the usual!”

“Control yourself, William!” your father says warning, “As much as I like to have a family breakfast, cursing and insulting is not allowed on the table.”

William looks a little angry for a moment, because he upset your father while he originally planned to get on his good side. But a moment later he shrugs his shoulders untouched and continues to wait until a servant shows up with a bowl of chocolate breakfast cereals and a cup of cacao. Either your brother is addicted to chocolate or he plans to get a sugar shock before the day starts.

“Hey, father,” you say suddenly remembering something, “is there a page with job offers in your newspapers? Some part time jobs for students, maybe?”

“Yes, there are some,” your father answers carefully, “why?”

“Oh, I was just looking for a part time job to earn some money while I study,” you answer and take another bite of your fruit, “in my hometown, I used to work in a clothes store to improve my pocked money. I thought I could continue this, as long as my school grades allow it.”

“You want to work for your pocket money?” William asks obviously confused, “are you a nun? We are the most powerful family in the whole state. We don’t do labor work like lowborn scum.”

“Shut up!” your father commands sharp and William immediately gets quiet, “tell me, child, how many pocked money did you get from your mother?”

“As long as I did my share in the household, 50 Dollars,” you answer, “and of course I didn't have to pay rent, electricity or water.”

“How could you survive with 50 bucks a week?” Brother asks skeptical, “what could you buy with these alms. I regularly spent three times this much on a single evening. Did your mother hate you?”

“It was 50 per month, not per week you spoiled rat,” you reply angry and ignore your fathers rule against cursing, “and unlike you, it taught me the value of money and work.”

“And this is what I respect,” your father interrupts diplomatic, “this would be a useful insight for other members of this family too.”

“Father, you can’t be serious,” your brother gasps shocked, “she describes a beggar’s life.”

“Then you have no idea how real beggars live,” your father says and shakes her head, “maybe we should test this. It could be good for you. Ashley, normally I would give you a credit card with unlimited resources and regularly check the money you draw from it. But from now on, until I decide something else you will both have a limited amount of money. I think 100 Dollars per week will do. It’s much more than your mother gave you, and maybe it will stop you, William, from wasting a fortune for useless crap and parties.”

“But …” William begins **** but is immediately interrupted.

“No buts!” your father says sharp and places two small bundles of money on the table, “you don’t have to pay for education, food, rent, water, power and clothes. And you still can use all your stuff and the facilities in the mansion. If it’s not enough, you can look for a job like your sister. And you, Ashley, you are going shopping with your bodyguard today. I will give him a credit card and tell him what we agreed. Buy what you need, but nothing more. I’m sure you will not disappoint me.”

William can’t answer. He just stares at you with and open mouth while you quite eat your breakfast. This was clearly one of the most terrible outcomes he could have imagined.

“Well, kids, I really enjoyed our shared meal,” your father says friendly and gets up, “it is relaxing and obviously it improves new methods for this household. I hope we will do this more often from now on. But I have to work. Have a nice day. And don’t kill each other.”