“Good afternoon miss, can I get you something to drink? A snack?”

  I turned to the flight attendant, glancing at the cart. “How much are they?”

  She smiled. “It’s complimentary in First Class. We’ve got Pepsi products, as well as cookies or crackers. Or both,” she winked at me.

  “I’ll take a coffee, no cream or sugar. And a thing of cookies.”

  Dad leaned over from the window seat. “Well, if it’s complimentary, I’ll take a beer!”

  “Of course, sir,” the attendant replied, and in short order she poured a bottle out for my dad and handed me a coffee in an actual mug. I blew on it as I settled back into my spacious seat. In Matthew’s memories, he had never travelled First Class before, and even though today was a brief hour flight, I was very much enjoying it. Dad was doubly impressed as the two of us made our way to Chicago from Minneapolis.

  It had been less than two weeks since the Priceline flip and my acceptance letter arrived from the University of Chicago. It had been a bit of a whirlwind; Mom and Dad took all of us out to a steak dinner when I told them the news, though I left out the part where I made fifteen million dollars in less than ten minutes. They were just excited that I had actually gotten into what they referred to as an “Ivy League” school. I had to explain that while it was very selective, it wasn’t actually in the Ivy League, but they weren’t concerned.

  After we got back from dinner, there was a message from Mr. Henderson waiting for me. He confirmed that the deal had gone through – Northern Trust was on board to transfer my account! Apparently my flip, while considered fairly reckless by an old guard institution like Northern Trust, impressed the executive in charge and were happy to take over the account for such a dynamic client, though it had to be done as soon as possible as per Mr. Henderson’s request. When I returned his call, he reiterated that we needed to offload the liability of my account without delay, and explained that for legal reasons he needed to coordinate with my father.

  I had miraculously managed to keep the scope of my deals a secret from my parents, and Dad never pried too much into what I was doing with my account as long as his account was performing well. I had been intercepting tax forms and other reports for years before he could get them and I suspected Mr. Henderson was aware, even if he couldn’t actually say it out loud. There could be serious legal repercussions of leaving Dad in the dark as we had for so long, and keeping my wealth under wraps was in his best interests as well.

  When I called Dad down to my room to talk to Mr. Henderson, a story was agreed to. He explained to Dad that since I was turning eighteen next month and had successfully been trading this whole time, it would be prudent for me to transfer to a bigger bank. He also added that they had contacts at the University of Chicago, and my skills had impressed them to the point that they were willing to fly the two of us, all expenses paid, to visit the campus and to sign over the account.

  Dad was stoked of course; I had made him over twenty grand over the years as I managed his account, and I think he assumed that was the success Mr. Henderson was referring to. He was more than happy to agree to come to Chicago, and we made plans for a week from Sunday to fly to Chicago, and details would be sent shortly. After we finished the call, Dad gave me a big hug and told me how proud he was of me, though I was just relieved that he was still in the dark about my situation. I didn’t know how or when I would explain to him that I was a millionaire, but until I graduated high school I wanted to have as normal of a life as possible.

  When we landed in Chicago in the late afternoon, there was a driver holding a sign with our names at the gate, and he quickly collected our bags and escorted us to his car. It wasn’t a limo or anything ostentatious, but I noted it was a black Lexus. We were driven into the Loop to the Four Seasons hotel, where Northern Trust had booked our room. I was shocked that it was a two room suite; I hadn’t expected to have a room all to myself, but I guess this was to be expected. We received a phone call once we checked in from a man named Julian Thorne, the wealth manager who we would be meeting with in the morning.

  I thanked him and told him I looked forward to meeting him tomorrow, as Dad and I went agape at our room. We didn’t even mind that the view was of the next building over. Since the room was paid for by the bank, Dad suggested we have dinner downstairs in the hotel restaurant. We had the foresight to check if it required a tie, and of course it did. While Dad relaxed in his room, I took a quick shower. After fixing my hair and putting on a red dress I had packed, Dad threw on his gray suit and we headed downstairs. It was a cute little daddy/daughter date we had, and I was thankful that no one from school would possibly find out about it. It was nice though, to have an evening with just the two of us before things got nuts.

  The next morning our car was set to arrive at eight to pick us up. I had purchased a new outfit specifically for this meeting, which I had borrowed liberally from Ally McBeal. I had an aversion to pant suits, so I chose a dark skirt with a matching jacket over a modest peach blouse. I even picked out a new pair of heels to match. I was young enough, and my legs were nice enough, that I could get away with a skirt, though it wasn’t as short as it was on TV. After grabbing my matching briefcase, which I had also bought for the trip, we met with the driver downstairs and we took off to the financial district.

  The Northern Trust building screamed old money. It was a monolith of stone, and the interior was a cavernous space of golden pillars and intricate art decor. Our every footstep echoed, and not for the first time did I realize I was in the big leagues. We were met by an assistant, who swiftly led us past security and to a private bank of elevators. We exited to a quiet, carpeted hallway where we were guided to a large conference room with a view of the street below. Waiting inside were several men in suits, and the most prominent was a tall man with distinctive gray temples and a red rose in his breast pocket.

  “Welcome, Mr. and Ms. Peterson!” he greeted as he extended his hand, as the others fell in line behind him. “I’m Julian Thorne; we spoke on the phone. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

  Dad shook his hand cordially. “Oh, it was a very comfortable room. I’ve never stayed in such a nice place!”

  “I’m happy to hear that, Mr. Peterson.” He then turned to me, firmly but gently shaking my hand with a short bow. “And you must be Maya Peterson. Your reputation precedes you. I imagine this must all be very overwhelming for you.”

  “On the contrary, it’s nice to return to the Loop. I’m looking forward to starting school in the fall.”

  “Of course, the University of Chicago. I’m a graduate there, of course. I would be more than happy to discuss it at length with you. Please, let’s take a seat and get started. Anything to drink?”

  Dad was ogling the room. “I’ll take a coffee,” he said absently, examining the decor inside of the room.”

  “A coffee for me as well,” I replied as I approached the chair that Thorne pulled out for me. I set my briefcase to my side and crossed my legs. “Um, Dad, take a seat.”

  “Hm? Oh, right, of course,” replied Dad slightly shaken. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen an office building quite like this!”

  Thorne smiled. “Well, Northern Trust is a cornerstone of Chicago finance, and we’re very excited to work with a client like your daughter. We’ve got the paperwork sorted, and I’m afraid we’ll have a long list of paperwork to review. As you know, today we’ll be finalizing the transfer of your daughter’s custodial account to a new account here at Northern Trust. As custodian, you’ll simply sign over control for when she turns eighteen…next month, I assume?”

  “That’s right,” Dad answered. “She’s been walking me through this one for the last week or so. I’m afraid I don’t have a head for this sort of thing, but Maya more than makes up for it!”

  I had a fixed smile glued on to my face. Thorne and the other executives were bemused at my father, but to their credit they treated him cordially. After an assistant poured coffee for the table – in a copper pot with matching cups, I noted – Thorne walked my dad through the papers. There were several forms for him to sign, and Thorne dutifully explained each document to Dad, though Dad was a little flustered and when he got like this he defaulted into folksy sayings and Midwestern friendliness. He was signing documents so quickly that he failed to notice the exact dollar amounts on the papers he was so quickly signing.

  “Just one more form here…yes, there we go, Mr. Peterson. Wonderful.”

  Dad laughed. “I’ve never given out so many autographs in my life!”

  “And sign here, Ms. Peterson. Very nice,” Thorne said as he collected the papers. “And that just about does it; Maya’s account is now officially out of your hands and will be ready for her birthday next month. Now, there is the matter of the tax forms, but those have to be completed at our off-site tax office. We’ve arranged for your driver to take you there while we discuss Ms. Peterson’s account.

  Everyone stood up respectfully, and Dad leaned in close to me. “Do you think you’ll be okay while I take care of this tax stuff, sweetie? I hate to leave you alone for too long.”

  I waved him off. “It’s fine, Dad. I’ll just be here when you get back. I have a few things I need to talk about with them about the account. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I never do, kiddo,” he winked at me. “I’ll be back before you know it.” With that, the assistant led him to the elevators, and he gave me a friendly thumbs up as the doors shut on him. I hadn’t said much until this point, preferring to stay quiet while Dad did his part, but I steeled myself for the next round as I retook my seat. Everyone else followed suit. Thorne smiled amiably at me, studying my face.

  “Your father is…quite amusing, Ms. Peterson.”

  I shrugged. “Well, you know how fathers are. I’d like to discuss the details of the account now, if we could, Mr. Thorne.”

  Thorne nodded. “Of course. As we discussed, we have to address the tax liability from your recent flip. Astounding work, if I must say. The liquid cash of the deal should easily cover it, but we will set aside the funds to cover the fee. We’ve taken the liberty of assigning one of our CPAs to your account; he’ll be working directly with you to help with the documentation. I also will be managing our account personally, Ms. Peterson.”

  “I assume we will be forming an LLC to structure the account?”

  “Indeed,” nodded Thorne. “Have you settled on a name?”

  “I like the name ‘Butterfly Capital.’”

  “Very charming. We will be setting you up with an executive assistant this coming summer, which will be paid out by the LLC. We’ll also set up your expense account, and whatever other services you may require.”

  “That’s what I’d like to discuss with you next, Mr. Thorne,” I added. “I do have a few requests that I’d like to get underway while I am here.”

  “Absolutely. Tell us what you need.”

  “First,” I stated, pulling out my notes from my briefcase, “I realize that much of my activity has been considered ‘high risk’ in the last few years, but I want to assure the bank that I would like to transition into more stable growth. Something with low volatility for the near future, especially considering I am starting school in the fall.”

  “Very shrewd, Ms. Peterson. Your gains have been astounding, and I am pleased to hear you are open to solidifying your assets. This is what we specialize in, after all.”

  “Second, I’d like to have Northern Trust set up my admissions paperwork for my university admissions for the fall. I’d like you to set up tuition payments, financial aid, housing forms, and whatever the university needs for the fall.”

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  “Easily arranged. We assumed that, and have already reached out to admissions. Consider your documentation taken care of.”

  “Third, I’d like to have a private investigator placed on retainer. Paid by the LLC, of course. I would like to see a list of candidates, and specifically I would like them to have a background with the FBI or CIA. I’d like a list of at least five by the end of May.”

  “We can have five by the end of April. Unusual request, Ms. Peterson – any specific reason why they would be required?”

  “Nothing specific,” I pivoted, “just someone trustworthy that can investigate certain positions, certain individuals of interest. I plan on making some moves in the next few years, and I’ll want all of the intelligence I can get.”

  “Consider it done,” assured Thorne. “Anything else?”

  I nodded. “Of course. I appreciate your assurance that Butterfly Capital will be fully staffed to manage the complexities of my securities portfolio. However, the immediate challenge is liquidity, and my existing holdings won't cover our tax liability easily and the projected operational costs of the firm. This would be my response.” With that, I pulled out a folder from my briefcase, and slid it across the table to Thorne. He casually opened it, looking at the dog-eared papers inside.

  “These look like…online holdings?” Thorne asked.

  “Digital assets, yes. These are registration documents for thirty-two domain names.”

  “Domain names? I’m afraid I’m not the most tech-savvy individual.” Thorne examined the papers quizzically. “Credit.com? Gifts.com? I’m afraid this is a bit over my head. Could I call my internet analyst to examine these?”

  “Of course,” I replied casually.

  Thorne made a quick call downstairs, and four minutes later a young man whose thick glasses and short shirtsleeves indicated he was a computer expert. Thorne handed him the packet.

  “Jennings, can you tell me what these are?”

  “Yes sir,” he replied as he opened the packet and read the contents. His eyes opened wider and wider as he flipped through, and his mouth opened in amazement. “You own casino.com? Cars.com? Travel.com!?” He flipped back to the front of the packet. “Dated September 1995!? My god, this isn’t just a portfolio, Mr. Thorne. This is a complete digital collection of at least half a dozen market verticals!”

  Thorne raised his hand. “Can you explain this, simply, Jennings?”

  Jenning’s hands were shaking. “Sir, these documents certify ownership of certain domain names – the ‘dot com’ that you type into the address bar to go to a certain website. Many key domains were purchased by various companies over the years, but this ledger…this client owns names of very simple and non-trademarked addresses! Look here: shop.com! Do you know how many stores would kill to have their online store link to shop.com? She also has shopping.com!”

  “But what does this mean, Jennings?” demanded Thorne.

  “Sir, these are like real estate properties in prime locations. Digital locations. Each one of these domain names is potentially worth millions. I mean, take this one: search.com. It could be sold to Yahoo, Alta Vista, Lycos, or even a new startup who would want to capitalize on the name alone! Sir…this ledger is unbelievable,” he said, turning to me. “And you secured them in 1995?”

  I nodded. “In my high school computer lab. I’ve held onto them since my freshman year. I intend to sell them all before the end of the year.”

  Jennings gaped. It was Thorne who spoke up next. “Jennings, what are we looking at here? What would these…digital properties be worth?”

  Jennings flipped through them once again, his eyes bulging out of his sockets. “I mean, rough estimate…if they sold for what I think they could on escrow, or even privately for some of them…collectively they could be easily worth nine figures.”

  Thorne visibly froze, his polite demeanor set aside by the gravity of the situation. His aides were equally stunned. He swallowed, collecting his thoughts, and steadied himself with his hands on the table.

  “You said…your high school computer lab?” he eventually uttered.

  “Yes. Freshman year. Over three years ago.”

  Thorne settled into his chair, stroking his chin and staring into space. In response, I calmly sat and waited for someone to say something.

  “This…changes some things, Ms. Peterson,” coughed Thorne, eventually. “Your original twenty-something million account is potentially worth five times that.”

  “Does this mean Northern Trust can’t accommodate me?” I asked innocently.

  “No, No!” sputtered Thorne suddenly, before collecting himself. “On the contrary, this is a service we are uniquely qualified to handle for you, Ms. Peterson. It’s just…a very high liability for the bank. An eighteen year old college freshman worth potentially nine-figures…this is no longer optional services, this is mandatory compliance. An Ultra High Net Worth client, this requires security of the highest degree. Not only for your safety, but for the bank itself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ms. Peterson, I’m afraid this would require you to have full-time security, and not simply an investigator on retainer. You would be among the highest tier of our client base, and considering your age and your educational requirements, these security arrangements are non-negotiable were Northern Trust to manage these assets.”

  "Mr. Thorne, I requested an investigator for due diligence purposes. I did not request a personal guard."

  "Ms. Peterson, you are now the Principal of a firm with a projected nine-figure liability. We appreciate your desire for independence, but our fiduciary duty is no longer simply about growing your capital. It is about preserving the principal from all possible risks. From kidnapping, extortion, or coercion –"

  “Mr. Thorne,” I asserted, “I don’t want to be some princess in a tower. I’m going to school in the fall, and I require my autonomy!”

  "We understand, and we will tailor the protocol for the utmost discretion. But the protocol is mandatory. This level of security is the cost of entry into this tier, and it is a condition placed on the account by Northern Trust's compliance board, not by me. We will ensure the security enables your life, but it cannot be waived."

  I frowned, sighing audibly. I suppose I should have expected something like this, after all I had planned out this domain sale years ago and had been patiently waiting to offload those valuable web addresses. But security? Possible kidnappings? If I didn’t feel over my head when I walked into that golden lobby, I certainly felt that way now.

  “I understand,” I replied grudgingly.

  For better or for worse, I knew this is where I would be heading, if I intended to make the plays I had plotted out for the next few years. I sat patiently as Thorne made some calls and the other executives whispered among themselves. It was decided that arrangements would be made to be under my parent’s custody for the summer, and security preparations would be made for the coming fall. Wild discussion went on between one another as I sat, almost ignored save the fact that the conversations were about me.

  At a certain point, we broke for lunch which was served by a team of servers who quickly set up the table while we milled about. The group collectively asked me questions about myself and my unique background in finance, though I’m sure they all had no clue how to talk to a teenage girl in this context. At a certain point, Thorne was notified that we were to receive a couple of visitors. I had the feeling this had been prearranged, but I went with it. An older gentleman and a slightly younger one entered the room with a cadre of suits trailing them.

  “Ms. Peterson,” announced Thorne, “allow me to introduce you to William Osborn, the president of Northern Trust, and John Fumagalli, the managing director of our central Chicago locations.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Peterson,” greeted Osborn as he shook my hand. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. When I learned of your circumstances, I was very interested to meet you in person. Such talent at eighteen, and such a lovely young woman. It is quite unprecedented.”

  “It’s actually seventeen, Mr. Osborn,” I replied coolly. “And I’m happy to be associated with Northern Trust as well.” I noticed Thorne whispering to Fumagalli from behind Osborn’s shoulder. I heard the number one hundred million uttered, to which he reacted with a gasp to Thorne.

  “Yes, it’s good to meet you,” said Fumagalli who recovered from his brief shock and took my hand firmly. “This is…quite an accomplishment. Simply unheard of. I’m very excited to be able to have our firm represent you.”

  “And now,” Mr. Osborn announced to the room as he gestured to the servers, “traditionally we have a toast to a client such as young Ms. Peterson here, though I requested a Brut from Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin without any thought for her age.” The room chuckled along with Mr. Osborn.

  Another pair of servers quickly entered with trays of high stemmed glasses in their hands, as everyone in the room took one each. “I’m afraid that we may have to find a sparkling cider for our woman of the hour,” joked Thorne as he took a glass.

  “It occurs to me,” I mused to the room, who immediately gave me precedence, “that I might be rich enough that the rules don’t really apply to me.”

  The room laughed, and Mr. Osborn most of all. “I truly can’t argue with that, Ms. Peterson,” he agreed as he personally handed me a glass, which I accepted gracefully. “A toast to young Maya; and to her association with our firm and her upcoming career. I am sure she will move mountains!”

  We collectively raised our glasses, and took our respective sips. It occurred to me, from Matthew’s memories, that it may have been the best champagne that he had ever tasted; it was certainly the best Maya ever had. I was introduced to everyone in the room, and I noted that Thorne took a moment to whisper to Osborn about the new revelations on my assets. He nearly choked on his drink. He was even more cordial and friendly with me afterwards, and it occurred to me that I was potentially the wealthiest person in the room.

  Dad joined us before lunch was served properly, and Osborn and Fumagalli met him before excusing themselves. Dad was duly impressed that I had gotten a visit from the leaders of Northern Trust, but even more so with the three-course meal that was served. Thorne had a deep conversation with Dad about security issues, and while I missed a few of the details Dad was confused as to why it was necessary, concerns to which Thorne coolly defused, stating that it was “business as usual” for a firm such as Northern Trust. He also assured him that the firm would be in contact for our campus visit tomorrow to iron out the admission process.

  The two of us were pretty exhausted by the time we returned to the Four Seasons. When we got to our rooms, Dad had a brief moment of curiosity when he asked about why the security would be so tight with this bank, and why I needed so much. I dismissed it, saying it was sort of like an internship, and they took security and compliance very seriously. The key point was that they were going to assist me in setting myself up for school, and it was because of Dad’s diligence and trust that it was all happening so quickly.

  Dad appreciated the compliment, and since the day was so tiring we decided to stay in the room and order a pizza. We paged through the complimentary services that the hotel catalog offered, when Dad pointed out the in-room massage services. Apparently he wasn’t joking, since he promptly ordered two for that that evening. I felt a little awkward laying face down in my room with only a towel covering my bottom while some older Asian lady kneaded my back. I think Dad enjoyed his massage more than I did. We spent the rest of the evening flipping through the premium cable channels on the TV.

  The following morning we were met downstairs by our driver and an aide from Northern Trust, who had been briefed about our admissions process and would accompany us for the day. They had taken the liberty of setting up a private tour of the campus, as we were weeks before most of the student body visited the campus. We were introduced to the Dean of Students, who was with the chair of the Economics department. Apparently someone at Northern Trust had weight, since I’m sure they didn’t meet with all of the incoming freshmen. The aide broke off with us to discuss minutiae with the admissions office while we explored the school.

  The campus was a wonder of gothic architecture, and spring was only starting to bloom. I always appreciated the design of older buildings, and UChicago was no exception. We briefly walked the quads, and I was amazed at all of the towers and statues among the trees. I was even able to observe a business lecture in one of the halls, and was duly impressed. Matthew had gone to a small liberal arts school in northern Minnesota to get his business degree, so I was excited to join an honest-to-god top tier institution. Even though it meant four years of redoing the same courses I had taken in my previous life, I was excited to do it in such a vibrant campus.

  We returned to Minnesota the following morning, with Mr. Thorne briefly seeing us off in the hotel lobby. He had some paperwork for Dad to bring back with him to Minnesota, and I could tell since he met in person that he was giving me his personal attention. It was fair to say I was potentially his biggest client. We shook hands again, and he promised me he would be keeping in close contact for the next few months and I shouldn’t hesitate to contact him. We said our farewells and took our car to the airport.

  Dad was still overwhelmed with the packet he had been given, and was tentatively reading through it as we sat in our First Class seats to Minneapolis. I simply stared out the window at the dreary gray of the winter clouds outside, thinking to myself about my life going forward. Even though everything was different this time around living as a girl these last few years, there were still tinges of familiarity; the same family, same house, same school. Now, I was in uncharted territory. A big part of me was thrilled, since I was finally going to come into my own and not have to retread everything, something I had longed for every day I sat at a desk reliving grade school.

  The other part of me was utterly terrified. My newfound wealth and resources were about to isolate me, and I still had so much more to do. There would be graduation, perhaps vestiges of a summer of carefree fun, but the world I was stepping into was high and full of pitfalls. I began to wonder if I would ever regain any sort of agency moving forward. One thing for sure, I knew I’d come up with a plan.

  After all, this butterfly was about to create some storms.