"You both made it feel like a ho," Lukas added, lowering himself into the large leather chair across from them. He looked around the suite—soft jazz playing low, cinnamon-scented candles flickering on the windowsill, and the two most important people in his life within arm’s reach. For the first ti in weeks, he felt the pace of ti slow down.
As the evening deepened, the suite was filled with laughter. Bella and Lukas tead up to make homade pizzas, while Annie was in charge of desserts. They played board gas, teased one another, and even FaceTid Roy and Jay, who were celebrating from the apartnt nearby.
Just before midnight, the three of them moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the shimring Philadelphia skyline. The lights of the city danced beneath them, and the snow was still falling, soft as powdered sugar.
"Five minutes," Bella said, checking her phone.
"I still rember last New Year’s. We were... nothing like this," Annie whispered, her voice full of gentle reflection.
Lukas placed a hand on her shoulder. "Everything changes. And I think this year, it changed for the better."
"It’s like we built a family here," Bella said, squeezing Annie’s hand.
The last minute ticked away, and they stood in silence, watching the clock on the TV count down.
"Five... four... three... two... one!" they shouted together.
Fireworks erupted outside—bursts of red, green, and gold lit up the skyline. The three of them embraced in the middle of the suite, laughing through teary eyes.
"Happy New Year," Lukas murmured, kissing the tops of both their heads.
In that mont, the cold world outside ceased to exist. Inside, it was warmth, ho, and hope.
As January dawned, the new year brought no rest to Lukas and the Facebook team. Every departnt inside the Princeton office buzzed like a beehive—engineers ran back and forth between server rooms and developnt bays, marketing teams refined their digital strategy, and Yaho led daily syncs in the top-floor boardroom, flanked by Lana and her core team.
anwhile, Lukas kept up his relentless routine—waking early in his Philadelphia suite, hitting the gym before sunrise, enjoying a hearty breakfast with Annie and Bella, and then heading to Princeton by car. Despite the winter chill, the rhythm of productivity ward everyone’s spirits.
A week into January, Lukas finally sat down with the lead accountant from Hugo Agency—the elite financial firm managing his empire’s books. The eting was held in the conference lounge of the new Facebook headquarters. The air slled faintly of fresh leather and polished wood.
The accountant, a sharp-eyed man in his forties nad Bryce Weller, opened the ledger and took a sip of black coffee before speaking.
"You spent just shy of $300 million last year, Mr. Martin," Bryce said evenly. "That includes company investnts, property acquisitions, executive paynts, donations, R&D, and personal expenditures."
Lukas raised a brow but didn’t flinch.
"On the bright side," Bryce continued, tapping a line of figures, "you earned more than that by working hard on your own and your temporary deal with the Phillies. Including estimated tax obligations, which co to around 38.6%, you still cleared a sizable net profit."
"And taxes are all paid?" Lukas asked.
"Every cent. Clean," Bryce affird. "You’re in the clear."
Lukas leaned back. "And your agency?"
Bryce smiled faintly. "Hugo’s handling fee for the last fiscal year is $6 million. For full-service accounting, tax managent, and executive coordination."
Lukas nodded and opened his checkbook. "I’ll wire 2.5 million now. When the year ends, I’ll add the rest based on this year’s performance. Add it into our new contract."
Bryce didn’t complain. A 2.5 million advance was more than acceptable—and he respected Lukas for not flinching at the numbers. As he packed his docunts, Bryce paused.
"You’re running a small empire now, Mr. Martin. Most people your age would’ve collapsed under that weight."
Lukas grinned. "Good thing I’m not most people."
Outside the room, the sounds of keyboards clacking and servers humming reminded them both—the machine called Facebook was gearing up for sothing world-shaking.
January had only just begun.
Just days after the intense accounting eting, Lukas found himself walking through the newly furnished office corridors in Princeton, sipping a hot espresso, his mind heavy with thoughts about the upcoming launch of Facebook. But amidst the buzzing discussions of ad servers, network stress testing, and hiring engineers, an unexpected call arrived.
It was Terry Francona.
The Phillies manager’s voice was less pushy this ti, more strategic. He spoke directly:
"Lukas, the fans are still talking about you. We have an upcoming match at Citizens Bank Park. It’s a charity ga. You play, we get exposure. You play, and Facebook gets banners across the stadium. It’s a win-win. What do you say?"
Lukas paused, setting his coffee on the conference table. He looked out the wide glass panel of the office building, the winter sunlight catching the snow-dusted rooftops below. His life had changed dramatically in the past year. From a simple college student to a near-billionaire entrepreneur and the talk of both Silicon Valley and the East Coast.
He thought about the sponsorship deal with MLB, the $10 million entry clause, and the leverage a public appearance would give. He knew Henry had already laid down the groundwork for MLB negotiations. This would be a perfect gateway.
"I’ll play," Lukas finally said.
The words weren’t forced, and they weren’t emotional—just clear, sharp, and calculated.
Francona chuckled on the other end. "I knew you’d co around. Send your requirents. You’ll be in full gear by next week."
After hanging up, Lukas texted Henry the confirmation. Then he turned to Yaho, who had been reviewing server schematics at the other end of the room.
"I agreed to the Phillies match. Get our branding team working on the stadium banners. Facebook needs to be everywhere on the day."
Yaho looked up with a raised brow but then smiled. "Good. Let’s make it loud."
As he left the office that day, Lukas couldn’t help but smirk. He was going back to the baseball field, not as a desperate teenager, but as a man who had nothing left to prove. This ti, it was business. And personal.
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