Yes, I will speak of stocks on New Year's Eve. Partying? I don't think so. I can have my scotch here, in the privacy of my own chambers and count my money. You may think I'm crazy, but if you had my money - you stay in and count it again too. I bet you.
I told you to buy this stock over 40% return AGO. You should have bought it like I told you. I've been telling a lot of you to buy this one since it traded below 10 and now it's at 110. You should be enjoying Apple bought champagne yourself. Are you?
Pardon, the alarm is going off in my apartments. Funny, there has never been anyone in this wing other than me. I will have to see to this.
I see a man run into my study. He has wild dark brown hair cut like a mop and swishing around his young thin face. I watch him panting and eyeing me. I don't think he wants to run anymore.
"How did you get in here?"
"I read her diary when she passed out. She wrote down the pass-code to this room. She told me it was abandoned."
"You came here to hide?" I ask him. Is he crazy? He looks me in the eyes and doesn't seem afraid of me. What can he be running from?
"I'm running because they were going to put me on trial tonight."
"Who is putting you on trial?" I ask. This is the first I've heard of a trial.
"The master of this mansion," the man says. He doesn't seem to have emotions. Just dark eyes rimmed with red from lack of sleep.
"Who is that?" I ask. He must be crazy, just like I thought.
I laugh and reach into my desk to grab two Cubans. I pass one over the desk and he takes it. "Do you know the name of this mansion?"
"I do not."
"The name is Holden Farms."
"Is that a fact? So, who the fuck are you?"
"I'm Ray Holden III. And I can assure you, contrary to what you may believe, I'm the Master of Holden Farms."