1

Harvard University: Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1968…

Donavon stood with his parents and smiled as he held his business degree in front of him, waiting for his brother Newton to take their picture. The flash blinded him, and Newton handed the camera back to their father. His mother fussed with the collar of his graduation gown as she smiled with pride. “I am so proud of you, Donavon. Valedictorian of your graduating class. Perfect GPA. My girlfriends are simply green with envy; their children aren’t top of their class.”

“Yes, I’m impressed, boy,” his father smiled. “I can’t wait to show you the ropes of the family business. Take a little of the strain of your old man’s shoulders.”

“I look forward to it,” Donavon grinned. He was so happy to have made his parents proud of him. All his life, he strived to live up to his parents’ expectations. He pushed himself to achieve and to be the best at everything he did. It was like his father always said second best was the first loser. You were either the best, or you were a failure, and Donavon would rather die than be a failure in his father’s eyes.

“Yes, the impeccable son gets the keys to the kingdom,” Newton scoffed as he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Both their parents groaned.

Newton wasn’t shy about his dislike for Donavon. Out of the two of them, Donavon had always been the successful one. Donavon succeeded at everything he did while Newton skated by squandering every opportunity that was given to him. He was spoiled, self-centred, and lazy.

His father had paid to get him into Harvard Law School because his grades hadn’t been good enough to get him in on his merit. He was in his second year and was already flunking every class he was taking. The school was on the cusp of kicking him out, which was, needless to say, a great disappointment and embarrassment to their parents.

“At least your brother is doing something productive with his life,” their father scolded Newton. If you would stop partying and start buckling down as Donavon did, you two could succeed.”

Newton rolled his eyes. “And be as boring as he is? I’m too young to be that dull.”

“Well, at least he didn’t squander my hard-earned money,” their father snarled.

“Isn’t he perfect?” Newton snarled.

“Be quiet; you are aggravating me,” Douglas ordered. Newton rolled his eyes but didn’t say another word. Since his father paid Newton’s way in life, he would hold his tongue instead of risking losing his meal ticket.

It was the start of the summer season, and since Donavon was finished with school and Newton was starting summer break, they were both flying back to Louisiana with their parents, back to the family plantation. Donavon came from old money. He grew up in the big house on his family’s sugar cane plantation an hour north of Baton Rouge. Shady Willows Plantation had been in his family for twelve generations. Handed down from father to eldest son for over three hundred years and sticking to tradition, Donavon was due to inherit the land and the business when his father passed on. In the meantime, his father intended to have Donavon manage things. Newton resented this.

“I can’t wait to get home,” Donavon said, trying to ignore his brother’s whining. He felt like it had been ages since he was home, really home. He had spent the last six years in Massachusetts attending Harvard Business School. Before that, he was abroad in Europe for three years, and before that, he had spent six years in New York as a ward of Rockford Boy’s Preparatory Boarding School. He had spent fifteen years away, only home for the holidays.

He wasn’t the only one. As soon as Newton turned twelve, they shipped him off to the same boarding school as they did Donavon, and when their kid sister Misty turned twelve, she was shipped off to Mrs. Waverly’s Finishing School in Savannah, Georgia, to learn to be a proper lady. Right now, their twenty-one-year-old sister was away in Paris, becoming more cultured and refined just as her brothers had done before her. When she returned, she would go up on the marriage block and start doing what any good southern debutante should do… husband hunt.

Their parents believed men had to be driven and business-minded, while women only had to be pretty and marry well. It was Donavon’s duty to continue his family’s legacy, Newton’s duty to just no tarnish their family name, and Misty’s duty to make a good match and hopefully increase the family’s holdings by landing herself a man with his fortune. Frankly, Donavon felt his siblings had it easy. All the real pressure lay on his shoulders. He would either continue his family’s success or put them in the poorhouse.

“It will be nice,” Ellie said happily. “Misty will be coming home this summer too. I will have all my children under one roof again,” she said, laying her hand lovingly to his cheek. Ellie had never been close to her children when they were kids. Until he was thirteen, Donavon had been sure his mother hated him, but as he grew older, the better their relationship became. Donavon had come to believe his mother had just not known how to deal with them when they were younger. She couldn’t relate to them, but as they became more independent and came into adulthood, the more involved she became in their lives.

His father had been distant to growing up, but like his wife, he became more involved the older they got. Donavon looked forward to working with his father. It would be a perfect way to bond.

He also looked forward to seeing his sister. Misty was six years younger than he was, and he adored her even though she too was spoiled. She was the baby of the family and the only girl, so she had been the light of their father’s life and their mother’s whole world. She was always given anything and everything she ever wanted or desired.

Misty was an adorable little girl that grew into a beautiful woman, but she was often entitled, rude, and abusive to the staff and people of lesser means. Regardless of her flaws, Donavon loved his little sister and wanted the best for her.

Newton, on the other hand, Donavon could do without. Newton was selfish and had been nothing but a thorn in Donavon’s side since he learned to talk. The brothers, who should have been best friends cradle to grave, couldn’t stand each other. Donavon wouldn’t go as far as to say he hated his brother, but they most certainly didn’t get along. Newton used people and walked all over those he felt inferior to him. He was privileged and pampered with a chip on his shoulder the size of a semi-truck. No matter what his problem was, somehow, it was always Donavon’s fault. Frankly, Donavon could have nothing to do with his brother and not lose a wink of sleep over it. When both his parents were dead and buried, Donavon intended to have nothing more to do with his worthless brother, but until that day, he would grit his teeth and tolerate him.

“I hope your dormitory is cleared out,” Douglas said. “Our flight leaves in the morning,” Donavon couldn’t wait to be home; it had been far too long.