Posing as the Billionaire's Grandson

CHAPTER 9

The next day, having some time before my next "appointment" with the Auclairs, I decided to do additional research on the family and their business empire. Details were important if I wanted to play the heir apparent convincingly.

Wrapped in the back corner of the library, I opened my laptop and began searching for information about the famously reclusive family and Auclair Company assets. To my annoyance, unambiguous facts were scarce.

Searching through business journals yielded mainly vague corporate announcements: the acquisition of a new premium hotel chain here and the arrival of elite cruise line ships there. Dry remarks celebrating expansion and profit reveal nothing about the empire's leaders.

There are no enlightening descriptions of the executives assisting Auguste Auclair in building his empire from the ground up. His children, Richard, Claude, and Juliet, were hardly more than names mentioned in passing about whatever venture they currently oversaw.

Philippe Auclair might as well have been a ghost. The man I knew as Paul's fumbling father didn't appear in any official stories. For all of Philippe's oversharing with me, any digital trail had been scrupulously removed.

After hours of Googling revealed nothing except basic public notifications, I shifted tactics. If I couldn't locate information about the inner circle, perhaps Auguste himself might shed light on the family's values and dynamics.

The majority of the links on the first pages for his name were dry statements of his commercial achievements and fortune. However, a few pages in, I came upon a newspaper profile evidently written by a gushing ghostwriter: "Auguste Auclair: The Self-Made Billionaire Who Never Forgot His Humble Roots."

Intrigued, I scanned through the lengthy piece glorifying Auguste's hard work ethic, vision, and "commitment to honesty" that helped him build an empire. He freely gave back to his community and refused to let success define him.

I couldn't help but snort derisively at such obvious misinformation. After Philippe's several intoxicated admissions, I seriously wondered that the Auclairs' money sprang exclusively from honorable hard labor. And Auguste appeared far from the modest, down-to-earth tycoon described here.

However, flowery public relations writings were not my main interest. What I needed was to look between the lines for hints about Auguste's personality and pressure points that I could employ as Paul.

Squinting at the grainy snapshot of a young Auguste, I reluctantly acknowledged a vicious determination in his flinty eyes. After all, he had managed to accumulate all of this wealth. Perhaps there were really smart business instincts hidden beneath the frills.

And, given his tight formality at the Christmas dinner, maintaining appearances was extremely important. His family was just another asset to be carefully managed and used to his benefit. A traditional patriarch through and through.

I leaned back, my mind whirling. If I could effectively assume Paul's demeanor and words, Auguste would most likely see only what he wanted in his bright grandson. The old man would grin with pride after making a few clever comments on the company's future course.

The ghostwriter's gushing prose now portrayed a clearer picture of an old emperor seeking assurance that his life's work would be carried on by future generations. That was the mindset that I needed to embrace.

My attention moved to learning the key figures in the Auclair Group's business structure. Those who will most likely attend the future golf event that Philippe indicated. I scribbled down names and divisions, creating flashcards for me.

As I studied in the quiet library, I reflected on how Agatha discovered Paul's unconscious state and my impersonation of him. The nurse was required to maintain confidentiality with Philippe's lawyers, which means it was one of the others who was present that night...

Charles Livingston was a lackey who frequently followed Paul around. Rail Thin, with a horrible undercut, is the privileged only child of a Bitcoin billionaire. With his inheritance uncertain, Charles may have sucked up to Paul in hopes of future favors.

Then there was Ben Carter, Paul's "friend" from elementary school. His family was involved in real estate, and he is stocky with sandy hair. Of the two, Benjamin appeared to be the less vicious member of Paul's gang, more of a naive follower.

My eyes were drooping over a long company report when Benjamin slid into the seat across from me. I tensed, but he did not appear surprised to see me.

"Shouldn't you be tanning on some beach right now?" I murmured sarcastically as Benjamin sat down across from me in the library.

When Paul isn't there, his typical cronies prefer to ignore me rather than annoy me. But Benjamin's anxious expression was peculiar.

I mean, it's winter break; shouldn't all these wealthy kids be on exotic vacations like they constantly brag about? I know if I had a lot of money, I'd be relaxing on a beach rather than hanging out in this dusty old library.

But, yeah, the elite get bored fast, so they invent stupid methods to pass the time. You can't expect spoiled brats to relax and act normal.

"I returned to visit Paul. I am worried about him. Benjamin responded, sounding anxious.

I barely suppressed an eye roll. Even though he treated his lackeys horribly, Paul managed to create compulsive loyalty. I'd never have these odd friendships.

I scoffed. "Are you worried that his attempt to bash me resulted in him sliding over a ravine? Maybe you shouldn't attack people in the rain next time."

"Adam, this is serious," Benjamin explained sincerely. "You could be charged with attempted murder or something."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" You were there; I never touched him! If anyone is to blame, it is you sycophants who stood by while he attacked me."

Benjamin gazed down at the table. "Yeah, but his family is extremely powerful." "They could ruin your life if they wanted to."

I observed him intently. Benjamin didn't know the whole truth yet. That left Charles as the most plausible mole. Interesting.

"How did you find me here?" I asked Benjamin.

He appeared bashful. "Oh, I went by your apartment first, and your grandmother mentioned you were probably here."

I didn't like that he knew where I lived and had been speaking with my grandmother. These wealthy children had no limitations. But at least he didn't make a joke about my obvious poverty.

"Okay, what did you want to see me about?" I asked.

Benjamin leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I recently visited Paul in the hospital. I understand he's in a coma. But his cousin Raphael texted me that Paul was at their family Christmas dinner. "How is that possible?"

I kept my face blank, simulating ignorance. "Hmm, strange. "I have no idea how he got that impression."

Benjamin shakes his head. "I don't believe he was confused. He claimed Paul particularly mentioned college plans at the dinner. But Paul is still in a coma!"

He glanced at me eagerly. I shrugged casually. "This is a really unusual rumor. But, hey, wealthy families can be theatrical."

Benjamin remained doubtful but dropped it. We sat in uneasy silence until the librarian announced the closing time.

I hastily gathered my belongings. "Gotta run, but be wary of rumors about Paul and his family." "Not everything is as it appears."

I left Benjamin looking thoughtful. I needed to be extra alert because my web of lies was unraveling quickly.