My Lord

Prologue

Mother always told me to go big or go home. I was always taught to dominate in everything I do. I aspire to be like my mother. I want my looks, my attitude, and my career to be exactly like hers. I already look kind of like her; I have her jet black hair that lies mid-back, I have her oh-so-precious green eyes that can burn into enemies souls, and I have her facial structure that people would die to have. I also have her body; if you got plastic surgery, you would choose a body like mine. My waist tightens in a little making me look curvy but skinny. Father always told me I would look like her twin when I was older, but I don't want to wait. I look about seventeen instead of my actual age, maybe that's why I can land deals so well.

Today is the last day of the school. I grab the handles of the double doors that divide my room and the closet and push them open revealing a room full of clothing. I slide a black halter-neck dress that laces up my thighs off the hanger before draping it over my shoulder. I then grab my mothers gold high heels that I stole months ago.

 Plugging in the curling iron I sort through my jewelry box and pick out a pair of diamond, stud earrings and a necklace shaped as an M.

"Fuck!" My words come out as a reflex as I accidentally burn the back of my neck. At least no one can see it.

***

I rush downstairs to eat breakfast before kissing Mother and Father goodbye.

I take my red Corvette to school, even though I don't have my drivers license yet, but a permit is good enough, right?

I pull into the parking lot and see Angie and Jess standing at the door waiting for me. They beam me a bright smile before linking one of their arms into each of my arms. Angie is on the right and Jess is on the left.

"So, Carter texted me today and asked if we wanted to come to the party he's throwing at the frat house." Jess says with hope consuming her eyes. 

"Of course, have you seen Carter, he's hot." Angie exaggerates the last to words before looking at me and giving me a hopeful look. 

"Whatever." I finally give in with a roll of my eyes. "At least now I have a valid reason not to hang out with my foreign exchange student." I don't understand how they meet all of these college guys, they are literally sixteen years old. Wait, that's only two years, my bad. 

***

I whip my car into the driveway and practically run to the shower. The hot water runs over my shoulders, relaxing my muscles. I lather up the shampoo in my hair and scrub until my head is sore.

"Shit!" I mumble as the bottle of conditioner connects with my toe. I finally get some on my head after my struggle. I rinse out the conditioner after I finish shaving and go set on my bed. Mother always brushes my hair after I take a shower; it's like a tradition. She walks in, comb in hand, and gets to work.

"Start young, and you will go farther in life," my mother's soft voice tells me as she brushes the comb through my wet hair.

"I know," I reply, keeping in mind to never show more emotion than the person talking to you does. It shows weakness, Mother once told me when I was younger. I'm only fifteen, but if you get in the game with a bang, you will go far. 

When she finishes brushing out the knots in my hair, she kisses my cheek and gracefully leaves my room, closing the door behind her. I glide over to my desk and start working on my plans to get to the top. My parents don't have what most people would call a good job, but I love it. I've been helping them make deliveries and deals since I was thirteen. Nobody ever saw me, but I was the voice behind my parents. They would ask me if they should do this or do that; my opinion was always valid. I guess that's what you get when you are your parent's little princess that will soon take over their kingdom and rule.

Rich men always like to buy. My mother makes most the deals using her flawless face, and ideally proportioned body to lure them in. Usually, in this business, men are the leaders, but in my case, Mother is.

 How to become the Lord: 

Step one: start small, only sell to the college boys, make a limit and have them begging at your feet for more. 

Step two: make up a fake name for them to call you by, never let anyone know your real one. 

Step three: only trust three people, yourself, your successor, succeder. 

 Step four: make a name for yourself, get your current buyers to recommend you. 

Step five: always have a backup plan.

When I was younger, my father taught me how to drive, and fly. The farther you travel, the more people know about you, the more people that know about you, the more people that will buy from you.

After I finish rereading my plans and make sure every detail is in the perfect place, I go to dinner. Mother and Father are sitting at the table discussing the new shipment they are getting tomorrow. The delivery they get tomorrow is critical; some of it goes to me. The whole load is nine kilograms, so I get four. They infer that it will last me a while, but who knows, after all, I do have my mothers skills and looks.