Rümeysa leaned back lazily on the sofa, her eyes locked to the ceiling, as she went through the conversation she had with her son.
She could say with confidence that she was the first person to have had this conversation with a fourteen-year-old since capitalism started, as there wouldn't have been many opportunities for a fourteen-year-old and entirely self-made billionaire to exist before her son.
She was confident that none of this was the result of her raising him, but just being blessed with a very competent and capable child. Even she, a former child, didn't remember thinking like that when she was the same age as her son.
