Eli looked again at the file in his hand. According to the data from Geneti-Labs, he had, in fact, been conceived artificially a full two years before his actual birth. 

He'd never paid much attention to the debate before now. When is a person considered a person? Is it the moment of conception or the moment of birth? Or somewhere in between? Is time spent frozen considered life? But now, with so much at stake for him personally, his stance was solid. Younger in years than his brother, this piece of paper in his hand might mean that he was rightful heir to riches and power he'd never imagined would be his.

"Facts are facts," Mr. Dauphin. Ellen Mitterand, the lawyer who'd nearly begged for this audience with him, smirked slightly and crossed long bared legs with an air of easy confidence. "You are, in fact, the oldest son. By more than a year."

"Oldest son, perhaps," Eli pondered out loud. "But not first born. I don't exactly see this as easily won, Miss Mitterand."

He lifted his gaze and looked at the view out the massive window beside him. He gazed briefly at the city below, teeming with  early morning activity. He reigned in the temptation to speculate that he might have a larger share in this city than he thought. Could it be possible? Could his hand ever hold the power he had envied his whole life? 

"I'll say it again, Mr. Dauphin," she opened the folder in front of her and adjusted delicate glasses to read. "'In the event of my death, my oldest living son shall duly inherit title and position within the company, and all power and possession inherent therein.'"

There was silence as she closed the folder and leaned back resolutely in the chair in front of his desk.

"There can be no doubt. Mr. Dauphin."She smiled. "You are the rightful head of InformaTech. You are the oldest living son. Birthdays notwithstanding. You have a case here, and I think I can win it."

Eli made his decision more quickly than he'd intended, spurred on, perhaps, by the possibilities that now opened before him. Possibilities that had lately been nothing but wish and fancy. His mind already raced with possible allies in the fight ahead. And he knew it would indeed be a fight. Why else would his brother had gone to such lengths to hide the file? Why else would it have taken such stealth and subterfuge to uncover it?

"Okay, Miss Mitterand," he said. "But let's keep this between us for now. We'll need time to formulate a plan before we bring this out. If we're going to do this, I don't want any mistakes. I'll contact you tonight. Make no attempts to contact me."