The day I graduated college, Dad and I had a huge blow-up. Dad yelled that twenty years of expensive education had turned me into a damn fool. Why couldn't I just come home and take over his multi-million dollar company? I shot back that he was just a stubborn old man, stuck in his ways. Who gave a crap about his stupid money? I went to ag school for a reason! I wanted to get my hands dirty, do real research out in the field, work on crop science! To stop me from "running off to play farmer," as he put it, Dad locked the gates to our estate. Didn't matter. That same night, I hopped the fence. Dad lost it and sent his security guys to haul me back from the train station. "Alright, smartass, you think you're so clever?" he fumed. "Look, Pops," I told him, "you caught me this time, but you can't keep me locked up forever. Besides, you're still young enough. You and Mom could always try for another kid, you know..." "Shut up!" he roared. We finally hammered out a deal. I'd intern at his company for three months. The catch? Nobody could know I was the CEO's son. If I managed to last the three months without getting fired, he'd finally let me go chase my dream in agricultural research. Turned out, just surviving three months under the radar, especially with a General Manager who seemed determined to make my life hell, was harder than I thought. After being pushed around one too many times, I finally snapped. That’s right, buddy, the rich kid is done pretending. 1 Look, I've always been a little different. And no, I don't just mean being born with a silver spoon—or maybe a whole platinum set—in my mouth. Or that my birthday gifts growing up probably totaled eight figures. Or having house staff trailing after me, calling me "Young Mr. Davis." I think the weirdest part, the thing that really set me apart, was this: you know how some families do that thing for a baby's first birthday, laying out objects to see what they grab? Well, forget the toy calculator or the little briefcase. Surrounded by shiny, expensive stuff, I apparently made a beeline for... a stalk of rice someone had randomly put there as a joke. Talk about destiny, right? On my 18th birthday, Dad asked me what I wanted. He was practically beaming. "Son, name it! A condo? A sportscar? Seed money for your own startup? Whatever you want, it's yours!" I said, "Dad, can you get me some farmland? Like, really good, dark, fertile soil." Dad just stared, speechless. So yeah, even among the trust-fund crowd, I was the odd one out. While other rich kids were racing Lamborghinis and hitting the clubs, I was out on the plot of land Dad eventually, reluctantly, leased for me, experimenting with different fertilizers, testing heirloom seeds... After my first real harvest, I proudly presented Dad with a basket of my own organically grown rice. He stared at the plump, healthy grains, then looked at me with this complicated expression. "Son," he said, his voice heavy, "you can't really get rich doing this..." I gave him a look. "What does everyone say they'll do if their business goes bust?" He blinked. "Go back to farming, I guess?" "Exactly, Pops," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Your son just skipped thirty years of corporate headaches and went straight to the finish line. Isn't that efficiency something to be proud of?" Mom had to physically restrain him from clocking me with a garden hoe that day. So, I majored in Agricultural Science in college. And after graduation, the fight that had been simmering between Dad and me for years finally boiled over. He called me an idiot blinded by rice paddies. Farming? How much money could that possibly make? I needed to get serious, come into the company, and learn the ropes! I scoffed. Who needed his "dirty money"? I had dreams! Ambition! I was going out to the country! That's when he locked the gates and I made my escape, only to be dragged back from the train station thanks to my eight-pack abs and decent climbing skills being no match for his security team. "Fine! You've made your point!" he'd roared when they brought me back. "Pops, you know I'll just keep trying," I'd countered. "Just let me do this internship thing. Three months. If I survive without getting fired, and without anyone knowing who I am, you let me go. Deal?" He finally agreed, probably thinking I wouldn't last a week. "Deal," he grumbled. "But don't come crying to me when they fire your idealistic butt." "Wouldn't dream of it," I said. 2 My first day reporting for the internship, I actually wore a proper black suit and polished leather shoes. Dad saw me on my way out and actually grunted, something vaguely approving. "Well, look at you. Finally decided to dress like a functioning member of society." I shot back, "Dad, everyone says I look just like you. So if I don't usually look human..." "Shut it, smartass!" he snapped, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. When I got to the office, there was one other intern starting the same day. He was dressed sharp, looked fresh out of college too. The second he laid eyes on me, I could practically feel the competitive waves rolling off him. Instant rivalry. Relax, buddy, I thought. I'm outta here in three months. Not gunning for your spot. But I couldn't say that, of course. The deal with Dad. The other intern, whose name turned out to be Kevin Miller, was frosty all morning. At lunchtime, though, he finally made conversation. Introduced himself, I told him my name was Alex Davis. "Davis?" Kevin squinted at me suspiciously. "Any relation to the CEO, Mr. Davis?" He's my dad, genius. Of course we have the same last name. I just gave a noncommittal shrug. But then Kevin's eyes dropped to my suit. His expression changed fast. "Wait a second... is that an Armani suit? Those things cost like, five grand, right? And those shoes..." He swallowed hard. "Dude, if those are real Gucci loafers, they're easily two grand..." I frowned slightly. Honestly, these were some of my more 'casual' clothes. I mean, I only had one walk-in closet dedicated to suits. Dad's watch collection alone took up an entire climate-controlled room, not even counting the really valuable stuff he kept in a bank vault. And Mom? Don't even get me started. Her clothes, bags, and jewelry filled three whole dressing rooms... Kevin looked like his entire perception of reality was short-circuiting. The way he was staring at me was getting uncomfortable. "They're fakes," I said quickly, keeping my face perfectly straight. Kevin blinked. "Wh-what?" "Total knock-offs," I insisted smoothly. "Suit, shoes, everything. Found 'em online." "Oh... oh, right. Knock-offs..." Kevin visibly relaxed, though a hint of suspicion lingered. He asked, trying to sound casual, "So, what do your folks do?" I plucked an occupation out of thin air. "They're rice farmers." Kevin's whole demeanor instantly shifted again. One second, cautious curiosity; the next, pure, unadulterated condescension. "Oh. Rice farmers... Hey, Alex," he said, his tone suddenly bossy, "grab me a coffee while you're up, will ya? Black, no sugar." His attitude flipped on a dime. But hey, three months. For the dream of wading through muddy fields and developing super-rice? I could suck it up and play fetch. 3 When I got back with Kevin's coffee, he was hunched over his keyboard, deliberately angling his body to block his screen. Fine by me. I wasn't interested in his C-grade corporate scheming anyway. I sat back down at my own workstation. A little while later, the General Manager – a guy named Henderson – walked over to our little intern corner. "Alright you two, did you get that proposal draft done that I asked for?" I blinked. Proposal draft? What proposal draft? Beside me, Kevin practically beamed. "Yes sir, Mr. Henderson! All finished! Already sent it to your inbox!" Henderson nodded, then turned his stern gaze on me. "And yours, Davis?" "I..." "Forget it," Henderson cut me off, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Judging by that blank look, you obviously didn't do it. Get it to me by lunch tomorrow. This will serve as your first performance evaluation." After Henderson walked away, Kevin put on this phony look of sympathy. "Oh, shoot, Alex, sorry man. He must have given us that assignment while you were getting my coffee. Guess I totally spaced on telling you..." When I didn't respond, just stared straight ahead, he rolled his eyes. "Look," he continued, dropping the act, "the standard internship here is three months, but let's be real. You should probably start job hunting now. This is a top-tier company, great benefits, the whole package. And I am definitely getting hired. Besides," he leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've got an ace up my sleeve..." "What's that?" I asked, feigning mild curiosity. Kevin puffed out his chest, looking smug. "You didn't know? Mr. Henderson? He's family. Like, my mom's cousin's kid or something." My fingers paused as I opened a new Word document. Wow, that was... a surprisingly distant connection to be bragging about. "So? Feeling intimidated now?" Kevin sneered. "If you know what's good for you, you'll just pack up and leave!" I just shrugged. Scared? Please. If that flimsy connection was supposed to scare me, Kevin would probably have a full-blown coronary if he found out my dad was the freakin' CEO. "Doesn't matter," I said evenly. "I have to stick out the full three months." It was the deal I made with Pops. It was my only path to my real dream. Kevin saw I wasn't budging. He gritted his teeth and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "stupid dirt farmer..." By the end of the day, I'd knocked out about half of the proposal. I stretched, figuring I'd finish the rest at home. Okay, so I didn't have prior internship experience, but I wasn't exactly clueless. Dad had been trying to groom me to take over the business since I could walk, practically. Shoving financial reports and contracts in my face from age three. I swear, I probably learned to read from shareholder agreements. They put me right to sleep, too. People complain about math textbooks being boring? Try reading a fifty-page merger document filled with legalese. Instant knockout. "Hey, don't burn yourself out," a friendly voice said. A woman from a nearby cubicle smiled at me. "Make sure you stand up and stretch once in a while." I nodded, realizing I actually hadn't moved from my chair in hours. Good point. I got up and headed to the restroom. The walls were pretty thin. I could hear voices chattering away in the women's room next door. "OMG, did you see the two new interns? Both kinda cute!" "Seriously, Tina? They literally just graduated college!" "So? I only graduated two years ago! And hey, that Alex Davis guy? I got a good look. Bet you anything he's got like, an eight-pack under that suit! The other one, Kevin? Too much of a slick pretty boy for my taste." "Tsk, tsk. Even if he does, what makes you think he'd look twice at you? Did you see that suit he was wearing? Looked expensive. Like, designer expensive." "No way! Seriously? You think he's a rich kid slumming it?" "Who knows? Happens all the time, right? Rich kids doing internships 'for the experience'?" Me, the actual rich kid slumming it, listening through the wall: "..." Great. My cover was about to be blown wide open on day one. Was female intuition always this scarily accurate? 4 Luckily for my secret identity, Kevin happened to run into the two women right outside the restroom door just then. Kevin, ever the smooth operator and Grade-A opportunist, immediately started chatting them up. I could hear the conversation drift my way, and surprise, surprise, Kevin quickly steered it toward me... "Oh, Alex? The other intern?" Kevin said, his voice carrying clearly. "Yeah, he seems alright, but..." He made a dismissive 'tsk' sound. "I asked him earlier. Turns out his parents are just farmers. Like, dirt poor farmers. And those fancy clothes he was wearing? Totally fake! Can you believe the nerve? Wearing knock-offs to try and impress people..." "Really?" one of the women sounded skeptical. "Cross my heart!" Kevin insisted dramatically, practically thumping his chest. "Look at my shoes – okay, maybe they only cost a couple hundred bucks, but at least they're real. Actually, my cousin got them for me as a 'first day' gift. You know my cousin, right? Mr. Henderson, the GM..." And just like that, thanks to Kevin's diligent "setting the record straight," my cover was secure again. The office grapevine buzzed with the news: Alex Davis was just some poor farm kid trying too hard. The office snobs immediately started giving me the cold shoulder, cozying up to Kevin instead... When five o'clock rolled around, I packed up my stuff. Kevin, still glued to his workstation, called out snidely, "Wow, an intern leaving right on the dot? Not even pretending to be dedicated? Tsk, tsk. Guess that's about your speed..." I paused at the door. "Do interns get paid overtime here?" Kevin blinked, momentarily speechless. "I don't work for free," I said, and walked out. Behind me, I heard the satisfying thump of something heavy being kicked – probably his metal trash can. Back home at the mansion, Dad was genuinely surprised that nobody had figured out who I was yet. "That's weird," he mused, stroking his chin. "I saw you leaving this morning. Figured someone at the office would recognize that suit, those shoes..." I rolled my eyes. So Pops had been trying to set me up for failure! The sneaky old fox. He never could have predicted I'd have an unwitting accomplice like Kevin working so hard to maintain my 'poor farm boy' disguise. "Yeah, well, Pops," I said dryly, "not only did nobody figure it out, but thanks to your brilliant plan, I'm now being actively ostracized by half the office." "Oh?" Dad's eyes lit up with poorly concealed amusement. "Getting the cold shoulder, are ya? Need your old man to go down there and straighten things out for you?" "No thanks," I said quickly. "Don't interfere. Please." All I had to do was survive two more months and change. Kevin was annoying as hell, but I could handle him. The next morning, I deliberately wore a different outfit. One I'd ordered on Amazon the night before – same-day delivery. When the delivery driver handed me the small, flimsy package at the massive front gates of our estate, he couldn't help himself. He looked from the package to the sprawling mansion behind me, then back at me. "You live here," he asked, bewildered, "and you're buying a ten-dollar shirt?" I just nodded coolly. If Wish shipped overnight, I probably would have gone for the five-dollar ones. I arrived at the office exactly on time. Kevin, naturally, was already there, looking busy. He saw me walk in and let out a low whistle. "Wow, Davis. Really phoning it in, huh? Not even trying to look eager..." I ignored him, dropped my cheap backpack by my desk, and sat down. Kevin kept rambling, "Doesn't matter anyway, I guess. You'll be gone soon enough. Mr. Henderson's my cousin, remember? All this 'showing up' you're doing? Total waste of time!" Thanks to Kevin's constant reminders, and my new, deliberately 'humble' wardrobe, most of my colleagues kept their distance. Why bother getting friendly with the intern who was clearly just temporary and probably going to get fired anyway?
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