Tell him what kind of child he is responsible for now

“What do you want to know?” you ask, “I would have guessed you already know a lot about me. Your lawyer said you have some data about me.”

“Only the basics,” your father answers, “I had some people in your area, who were supposed to keep an eye on you. But they were no spies. They just should watch out in case one of my enemies tries something with you. But I know you are a very good student, that’s right.”

“I’m best in class,” you answer proud, “most of my teachers were really good. And now I’m in college. I want to study.”

“That’s a good goal,” your father says proud too, “an academic career opens you many gates. And it can’t hurt to have at least one smart child.”

Veronica and William look quite sour after this comment. It is no secret they fear your father cold prefer you over your brother.

“What do you want to study?” your granduncle asks interested, “if it is finances, I could help you a little. I still have some contacts.”

“It’s surely nothing important,” William interrupts quickly, “but maybe we will meet in college soon. I considered to study too. I know, I wanted to work after my graduation. But I’m sure it is not too late to enter college.”

You are not sure what he wants to archive with this pathetic cry for attention. And his graduation is clearly just a bad joke paid by your father.

“Nothing against you, my nephew, but I’m not sure studying is your thing,” your uncle says calm, “I’m sure you would like the college parties, but they are very rare, compared to the hundreds of hours of mostly boring learning and lectures.”

“Despite this, what would you study?” your father asks critic, “with your grades it is very unlikely that you are accepted, even if I support the college with money. Maybe you should consider my offer for an internship in our family’s business.”

“I’m sure our son can do this,” Veronica steps in to defend your brother, “he is a smart boy. Much smarter than you think, honey.”

“I hardly think so,” your father answers cold, “but why not. We give it a try. Let us talk about this later. But now, my daughter, what are you studying?”

“I thought you know already,” you answer surprised, “I study medicine. Like mom did.”

“Ah, I see,” your father answers smiling, “like mother like daughter. Pike-women were always kind hearted and never afraid of hard work. Medicine is almost as difficult as law.”

“I hope you forgive me my interest,” Miguel begins, “but I couldn’t overlook that you are quite muscular. Are you into sports.”

“Indeed, I’m a member in a material arts dojo and visit the fitness studio once a week,” you say smiling, “my mother thought it is important that I can defend myself against junkies, street muggers and drunken rich kids. I hope I can continue this here. Maybe there is even a dojo in the town.”

“There is one, but is at the border to the slums,” Miguel answers, “but I’m sure we find a personal trainer for you.”

“Thanks, but that’s not the same,” you say, “I need others to train with. This way I got better.”

“Why do you want to sweat on dirty mats and used treadmills?” Veronica asks disgusted, “the thought alone is despicable. In what kind of zoo were you raised?”

“In one where we don’t need bodyguards, plastic surgery and silicon boobs to be somebody,” you reply impatient, “my friends and I got stronger and smarter because we threw ourselves into it. Not because we had rich lovers who gave us completely new bodies.”

“My child as much as we all like to have small talk with you, I’m afraid we have to move to some more serious matters,” your father finally ends the chatter, “your mother’s **** was a shock to … almost everybody on this table. Her end is tragic. But I’m also a little concerned about the quick intervention of the FBI. Especially the interest they have in you.”

You knew it. It was just a matter of time until he would come up with this. You understand that he has to be carefully in his situation. But you also would have hoped he waited until dinner is done.