Time slipped through the seasons like silk, seamless and unhurried, punctuated only by Michael Éclair's occasional inquiries about stocks—or, more frequently, his unsolicited advice.
More often than not, I was the one seeking his guidance.
"How's the stylist faring in her teachings?" His question came during a web call, though his focus remained on the pages of his book, as if my response was an afterthought.
"Lilith Ellis is adept," I answered, keeping it succinct yet assured.
Ellis was a rising star in the fashion world, an advocate of "simplicity, comfort, and elegance." Her philosophy shaped her designs—nothing garish, no excess, only fine fabrics that beckoned to be touched.
Twice a week, she came to our home, tutoring both the girls and me. Hairstyles, makeup, tailoring, footwear—she refined every detail. The girls adored the process.
Michael hummed, finally looking up. "Glad to know my investment in her didn't go to waste." His mirth was evident.
At times, he felt less like a business tycoon and more like a grandfather, bearing the same quiet authority as my father.
I had intended to pay for Lilith's services myself, but he brushed off the notion with thinly veiled disdain.
"No, you're not footing the bill for me."
The wealthy had their quirks. Debts were unwelcome, yet an unconditional gift? That, they could tolerate. I didn't protest. Instead, I invested in her—more than half my wardrobe now consisted of her designs.
Michael shut his book, finally giving me his full attention. "Ezra has emailed you your class schedule and instructors."
"Yes… but isn't that quite an extensive list?" I expected justification for the sheer volume—ten classes in total. Violin, piano, cooking, languages, etiquette, marksmanship, equestrian training… Was this the standard for the well-bred elite?
Michael arched a brow, his smirk almost imperceptible. "You should have mastered them earlier. Some you already know, but they need refinement. By the time you graduate high school, you should be a master."
I sighed. "I need nine hours of sleep for cognitive function." This schedule bordered on insanity.
"It's just a nameless, forgettable school. I can make arrangements."
I wasn't particularly attached to my current school, but being dismissed so easily still irked me.
Then again… spending less time in high school and more time on what actually mattered? That had its appeal.
"When does it start?"
"Next week."
The discussion shifted as Michael's gaze sharpened. "What else do you want to discuss?"
I straightened, crossing one leg over the other. "I need a firm to manage my investments."
His brows lifted—but then, amusement flickered across his face. "About time."
A chuckle escaped him. "What's in it for the company?"
"Profit." My reply was succinct.
Michael's grin deepened. "Ten percent of each investment plus three years of complimentary consultation." He leaned back, signaling Ezra with a nod. "Deal."
He paused mid-motion, surprise flickering in his eyes. He had expected negotiation, a counteroffer—perhaps a hesitation.
"Uncle Michael—"
The title felt foreign on my tongue, yet every time I addressed him formally, his gaze dimmed, his expression tightened. But when I called him Uncle, the tension unraveled, the creases on his brow smoothing.
"I've achieved my primary goal. It's time I indulge in my passions."
Michael gave me a patronizing look. "Lack of ambition isn't healthy."
"Neither is unchecked greed."
He smirked. "Idle hands breed mischief."
"With my schedule? I doubt I even know the meaning of 'idle'."
Michael Éclair threw his head back and laughed—a deep, rich sound that echoed through his office.
On my end, I chuckled quietly.
The next morning, I discovered just how quickly Uncle Michael moved.
The moment I stepped onto school grounds, I was summoned to the dean's office.
Attendance? Now optional. I was required only for exams and major assessments.
Michael Éclair didn't just pull strings—he rewove the entire fabric of expectation.
Seasons passed, and my daily life transformed.
I pursued knowledge on my own terms, engaged in activities that fulfilled me, and even on the most exhausting days, I had no regrets.
Mornings began at five a.m., starting with yoga and stretching, followed by martial arts, marksmanship, and horseback riding. Then, back home for swimming lessons before breakfast—often late, thanks to oversleeping.
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were dedicated to etiquette and language classes after school. Saturdays? Music in the morning, culinary training in the afternoon.
And much to my delight—wherever I went, the girls followed.
Time continued its quiet waltz, seasons shifting like an endless dance.
And I moved with it, learning, evolving, thriving.