Joshua

The law offices of Covington, Covington, Covington, Peters, and Franklin occupied the entire thirty-third floor of a building bordering Central Park. The view from the boardroom overlooked the park and was one of the most exclusive locations in all of Manhattan.

One of the Covington brothers – I could never remember which one was which because they all had identical bald heads and glasses and all had names starting with "G" – George, Gregory, Gordon – sat at the head of a huge polished wood table in the boardroom, my father's last will and testament on the tabletop in front of him. In my hand was a letter from my father that we were all supposed to read before we read the will.

I scanned it, wondering why he had written us a letter, but my sense was that it wouldn't be good news.

I was right.

To my dear boys:

If you are reading this, I am dead.

You have all lived exceptionally privileged lives by virtue of having been born lucky – to wealthy parents. You have all gone to the best schools, lived in the most affluent of neighborhoods. You have lived the bachelor's life since graduation, sowing your wild oats, and traveling around the world in pursuit of your dreams. While I love you, and am proud of each of you, it's time to grow up and be men.

You know that I have no respect for trust fund babies. I don't believe in inherited wealth. None of you did anything to deserve my fortune other than being born and as a result, none of you will receive a dollar of it upon my death; it will all go to charity. I'm sorry if you had plans that included some share of my fortune. Luckily for you, your dear departed mother made me promise I would include you in my will despite my distaste for inherited wealth but I worked for my fortune and I expect you to work for yours.

To that end, I have created trust funds for each of you. They are called "Incentivized Trusts" and one of the Covington brothers will explain it to you in detail. The funds have certain incentives that, once satisfied, will result in the disbursement of instalments. As to the remainder of my overall fortune, it will be divided into five equal portions. Each of you will be the head of a foundation in your name so the wealth I amassed during my lifetime will do some good in this world. It's up to you what kind of charity you create with the foundation revenue. You will receive a healthy salary for being CEO, but nothing more.

My one piece of advice on how to have a happy life? Marry well. Have a family with many children. Love your family with all your heart, the way I did you and your mother.

I know this will be a very unsatisfactory outcome and that you were probably planning on how to spend all my money, but that's not the way life works.

Love,

Your Father

What the…

He hadn't, as we all expected, divided his huge fortune among the five of us. I glanced around the table at my four brothers to see if they were as blindsided as I was by its contents.

David was the first to speak up. The youngest of my brothers, David was never afraid to say exactly what was on his mind, no matter where he was or whom he was with.

"What the ever-loving hell is this?" He held up the sheet of paper and glared at Covington. "What the hell is an incentivized trust fund?"

Covington shuffled the papers in front of him and avoided David's eyes. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"It's intended to provide disbursements when certain requirements are met and not until."

"He cut us out of his will," my second-youngest brother Christian said, a note of disbelief in his voice. At twenty-nine, he was just establishing himself as an adjunct professor at Columbia Law, and had political ambitions. He could have probably used some of my father's fortune to fund a future campaign for political office.

"No, he didn't. You'll each have a considerable salary from your foundations. If you satisfy certain requirements, you'll receive annual disbursements from your trust funds."

"Such as?" Christian asked.

Covington flipped a few pages. "On the anniversary of your wedding day, and on each anniversary afterwards, you will get twenty-five million dollars."

"What?" David's expression was almost comical. "That's peanuts! He's worth what -- ten billion dollars?"

"He's been very generous, considering his views on inherited wealth. He's divided up his fortune into two equal parts. One will be used to create five foundations. The other will be used to fund you and your brothers."

"He's paying us twenty-five million dollars to get married and stay married for a year?" David asked, stuck on the marriage part. "He can't really do that, can he? I mean, I could just marry some girl from the bar and divorce her the following year."

"You don't have to get married, but if you do, you'll get a disbursement on each anniversary of that date as long as you stay married to your spouse. Twenty-five million a year for up to twenty years."

"He's paying us to get married?"

Covington almost rolled his eyes. "Your father wants you to find spouses you will be happy with and so you can't just enter into a marriage of convenience. If you do, it will only be worth twenty-five million of the one billion fund. Your father hopes you won't divorce, but understands that it might be beyond your control, but only three marriages are permitted in total over your lifetime. Once you have divorced your third wife, that's it. No more money."

"That's like," David said, struggling for words. "It's slavery! He's enslaving us to our wives."

He stood up from his chair and went to the large picture window overlooking the city. Tall and well-built, David looked every inch the rock star with his longish black hair and tattoos covering his arms. He played lead guitar in an alt-metal band that was currently touring the US. They'd signed a big contract and had a new album coming out in the fall. He had groupies–lots of them–and girlfriends in every city waiting for his return. It would be especially hard for him to settle down, considering all the women willing to sleep with him on a moment's notice.

I could see Covington fight to keep from smiling. "You don't have to get married, David. You can stay single for as long as you want but then you forfeit access to your half a billion-dollar fund set aside for your married life, which your father believes is far too much. Plus, there are incentives for having children. On the birth of your first child, or on the date you adopt if you are unable to have your own biological children, you will receive another disbursement of twenty-five million on that date and on each subsequent year. All told, it works out to one billion dollars over twenty years. That's quite a significant sum."

We were all expecting to inherit one-fifth of his fortune. That would mean each of us would become a billionaire.

I stared at the letter in my hand, and thought of my father. He really wanted us to replicate his own life.

David turned to stare at the rest of us, his mouth open wide, expecting us to respond.

"What do you think, Michael?" David asked.

Beside me, my brother Michael shifted in his seat uncomfortably. At thirty, Michael was the owner of a construction company he'd started when he finished his degree in engineering. He didn't like family disputes and avoided them at all costs growing up.

"He made it clear to us he didn't believe in inherited wealth. Said it was against the principles of meritocracy."

David stared at Michael for a moment in disbelief.

"Did you know about this?" David asked in an accusatory voice. "Did you know he would blackmail us into getting married and having families?"

"No, but we talked about it before he died. He made it clear to anyone who might have listened."

David was clearly upset – more so than any of the rest of us. He returned to the table and picked up the letter once more, re-reading it.

"Your father was a strong family man," Covington replied, his tone patient. "He wanted you to follow the same path."

"I'm a fucking rock star," David said, slamming down the sheet of paper and sitting back down into his chair. "This is America! We have this thing called freedom. Forcing us to marry and have children is tyranny."

I could see Covington fight to stay neutral. "No one is forcing you to do anything. Your father didn't want to give you boys any money, but your mother made him create these funds, which are still considerable, given the average income for this country."

"I'm only twenty-eight, for Christ's sake," David protested. "I need a few more years before I have to settle down. I have groupies, not a wife!"

Covington cleared his throat, his patience apparently wearing thin. "Your father was married at twenty-eight and your mother gave birth to Joshua within the first year of their marriage. You boys can wait as long as you like but you won't get any of the money until your first wedding anniversary."

"We're men, not boys." Nash, my second-oldest brother and a former military pilot who now ran his own airline, frowned while he read over the will.

"Precisely," Covington said, glaring at Nash over top of his reading glasses. "Your father supported all of you while you pursued your personal goals. He funded your college educations. He gave you a home. You had ample allowances and he helped you when you wanted to start businesses or travel the world. If you don't approve of his terms, you can always continue your own way but if you want your share, you must marry and have children."

Nash grimaced like he hated the very idea of marriage and family. At thirty-one, he was closest to me in age. He'd bought a small jet after he got out of the service, using the money he'd saved while in the military, and started his company with my father's help. They had been partners in the fledgling airline. As a former fighter jock, my father was so proud of Nash. Nothing made him quite as happy as the knowledge that Nash was running his own airline.

I hadn't seen him for more than a year. He'd been off in the Middle East flying in relief supplies to war-torn zones. By his side was a motorcycle helmet and he was wearing a black leather jacket and black leather riding pants. He had a huge Harley, parked outside the offices. He looked like a rogue, despite being squeaky clean as a business man.

Nash was certainly a man by anyone's reckoning. He was always a rebel, despite being in the military, but you didn't fly high-performance aircraft at Mach 2 without having a wild streak in you. He was beloved by women everywhere, in every airport and military base he traveled to. I could see how the will's requirements would cramp his style.

"Do you think this can be challenged in court?" David said and shook his head in disbelief. "Isn't there some kind of civil rights issue involved in forcing children to marry and have families?"

"You're not being forced. You can choose to stay single for as long as you want." Covington exhaled. "Think of it this way: once you marry, it will all begin," he said and held his hands up, gesturing to the whole world.

"What will begin?" David grumbled. "Slavery to a woman and children?"

"Real life," Covington replied.

"Real life? Who needs it." David shot him a nasty look. "I prefer living the dream, thanks."

"Look on the bright side," Covington continued, undeterred. "You'll have a quite healthy salary as CEO of your charitable foundations and can live any way you wish, anywhere you wish. Once you get married, you'll have access to much much more."

"That sucks," David said disgustedly. "That's bribery."

Covington shrugged. "Some people would be happy with these terms. You're all good-looking young men with your own very successful careers. I imagine you'll have lots of potential mates who would line up at the chance to marry you. Surely one of them would be a good spouse."

Nash chimed in. "I've been dating since I was seventeen and let me tell you, if the right woman is out there, I haven't met her."

"Your father could have given all his money to charity if he had wanted. As it is, he set aside half in trust funds, but he wanted to ensure you did something with your lives to earn it. Namely have a family, the way he did. Besides, chances are very strong that you will all marry eventually anyway."

"That's not necessarily true," I replied, remembering a statistic I'd read about GenX not marrying until much later, if at all, compared to my father's generation of baby boomers. "Our generation is less likely to marry and we marry at a later age."

Covington turned to me. "Considering you were ready to marry only a few months ago, Joshua, I'd think you'd understand."

An awkward silence passed as we all probably thought about my failed engagement only six months earlier. I'd been engaged until my fiancée, Christie, whom I'd thought was the love of my life, decided that she preferred the company of her boss, Clint Watson, one of my underlings in the publishing business I managed as part of my father's empire.

What really sucked was that I couldn't blame it on Clint being richer or more powerful than me. He wasn't. In fact, he wasn't even close to my income or influence. She loved him.

She wanted me for my money.

It kind of soured me on the whole get-married-and-have-a-family thing. Frankly, I just didn't believe there was a Mrs. Joshua Macintyre out there for me. Sure, I had lots of sex partners. They were easy enough to find. But a wife?

Someone who could love me for me, and not for my wealth and power?

No.

Christie soured me on that possibility.

"Is there no way to contest this?" David asked. "I mean, don't we have a right to a share as his children?"

Covington shook his head. "No. In America, you do not have an automatic right to inherit your parent's wealth. It is entirely up to them how to distribute their property upon death."

"It's completely unfair."

"It's the law," Covington replied.

"Well," David said, "the law is an ass."

Covington raised his eyebrows. "Regardless, when each of the requirements has been satisfied, you will receive the first disbursements of your trust fund. Is there anything else?"

"What's happening to my father's penthouse? And his other properties?"

"Please refer to Appendix A. It details the division of property amongst the beneficiaries." Covington distributed several documents to us.

We all flipped to the appropriate appendix. In a list of my father's properties, I saw my name beside the beach house in the Hamptons. My father knew it was my favorite place to spend the summer. At least he had been nice enough to give me that without any strings attached.

Christian got the penthouse overlooking Central Park. Michael got the family mansion in upstate New York; Nash got the Florida estate; and David got the beachfront property in New Hampshire.

"There must be some kind of law against forced marriage..." David frowned as he read over the appendix.

"You aren't being forced to marry anyone. You can choose to remain single for as long as you want."

"He could have trusted us to want to marry and have a family and just given us the money," Christian said. "I could use ten million right now to fund my campaign for the state legislature." He leaned back, a disgruntled expression on his face.

"On your first wedding anniversary, you'll get it. You better started finding the love of your life sooner rather than later. Joshua," he said and turned to me. "You're the oldest of the brothers. You're now the head of the family. You take over as CEO of MBC. You'll get a salary as head of the corporation."

MBC, better known as Macintyre Broadcasting Corporation, was the business my father started from scratch. Originally a local television station, it grew into a huge media conglomerate with a publishing arm including print, television and radio.

I ran the print publishing business.

"I'm focused on the Chronicle," I replied, not happy to be taking over the whole empire. I'd just bought one of New York City's oldest newspapers, the New York Chronicle, which had all but died over the past decade. I wanted to revitalize it and make it the go-to paper for anyone who wanted to know anything about the city, its politics, and culture. I did not want the added pressure of running the entire organization. "I could sure use twenty-five million dollars, but if I have to find a wife and run the corporation, I won't have time to achieve my business goals for the next few years, which are very ambitious. And given my most recent experience, I'm not all that keen on marriage."

"I know your father well enough to know what he'd say in response," Covington said, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I know what he'd say," I replied with a rueful laugh. I glanced around at my brothers. "Suck it up, buttercup," we said in unison.

"Exactly." Covington turned back to his documents, but I could see him struggle to hide a smile.

I glanced around at my brothers; they were smiling to themselves as well, glad for a little levity in the middle of a somber event.

Then, finally, we all laughed together, because we knew our old man exceptionally well. He was that kind of father. Engaged in all our lives despite his massive empire. A loving father with the demeanor of John Houseman in The Paper Chase, or Churchill. An old bulldog, in other words.

I missed him.

I could imagine my father sitting at the head of the table, his eagle-eyes focused like a laser on us, ice blue and unforgiving; his silver hair slicked back; his three-thousand-dollar pinstripe suit impeccable, a cravat in his suit pocket to match his tie. He had been strong, smart, and driven–building a business from the ground up. Buying up his competition, and then getting into every aspect of publishing and broadcasting news until his empire was the second biggest media company in the world. He had been formidable.

Sadly, lung cancer didn't care how powerful he was. Like a typical man, he wrote off the nausea and occasional pain in his chest as bad food from a local taco truck, and by the time he was diagnosed, it was too late. The cancer took him in less than a year, ending his reign as head of our family and his own empire.

I missed him terribly, but as much as I loved him, even I was blindsided by the will and I'm sure every brother felt the same.

The last thing I wanted to think about was finding a wife, given my recent experience with love and marriage…