Chapter 1 · No Longer His Charity

Chapter 1

Right before I had to make my college choices, Eric Hart was with Mya Clark, helping her pick out a gift, arguing over whether she should get a yacht or a sports car.

One was my benefactor, the other my own sister.

But I couldn't fit in.

For the past ten years, at every family dinner, they always took the spotlight, everyone fawning over them.

And me? I spent ten years standing in the corner, never even allowed to sit at the main table with them.

After they finished choosing an overseas travel itinerary, the two of them went off to the college send-off party together.

Not a single one of them noticed I'd been left behind.

It wasn't until ten minutes before the system closed that I finally got a message from Eric.

Eric: [Mya's school is already sorted out. Just pick a local one for yourself.]

Eric: [That way, it'll be easier for me to keep sending you money. You should be grateful, right?]

But this time, I was done living on his charity.

I switched my application to an out-of-state university.

From now on, with 1,250 miles between us, we'd never have to cross paths again.

*****

The screen flashed a green "submission successful " message.

I took a deep breath.

I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the notary office, and the midday sun blazed down on the asphalt.

My phone buzzed twice.

It was from Secretary Lee.

Secretary texted: [Miss Linwood, Mr. Hart is at Mya's college send-off party and can't step away right now.]

He added: [Mr. Hart asked you to stay put at your place. He'll make time later to take you to sort out your enrollment at the local university.]

I didn't reply.

Right after that, a sixty-second voice message from Mya popped up in the family group chat.

I hit play, and the noise of the party under the chandeliers washed over me.

"Eric, I don't even know this Mr. Lee from the guest list, " Mya said, her voice sounding extra cute and coy.

"Mr. Lee's a big deal for the Southside Development. Just take a glass of juice over and toast him, leave the rest to me, " Eric replied, his voice softer than usual, almost doting.

In the background, guests were busy buttering each other up, the air filled with the clinking of glasses and plates.

I listened to the full minute, my face blank.

Seven years ago, when I stood before him with my top-of-the-class report card, he'd used that same gentle, indulgent tone, telling everyone I was his pride and joy.

But now, all of that had been completely passed on to Mya.

Back then, I would've hidden under my covers, replaying that voice message over and over, picking apart every word, desperate to find any sign he still cared about me.

But today, I didn't even have the patience to listen to the last few seconds.

I turned off the screen, slipped my phone back into my pocket, and walked into the crowd.

*****

Back in my cramped city apartment, the narrow hallway was filled with a musty smell that wouldn't go away.

I dragged an empty cardboard box out from under the bed and started clearing out the empty room.

On the desk sat a custom pen Eric had tossed to me two years ago, like it was nothing.

In the closet hung a few high-end outfits, designer clothes his secretary had picked up in batches, because he thought my old stuff looked too cheap.

All of it looked totally out of place in this cramped rental, barely over two hundred square feet.

I didn't even bother to look at them again.

I swept everything into the box and sealed it up with tape.

The family group chat was buzzing.

The Clark family relatives were all trying to butter up Mya, and Eric kept sending out cash gifts to keep the hype going.

A few minutes ago, I sent a message in the family group chat: [I've finished filling out my college preferences.]

No one replied.

My message was immediately swept away by a wave of flattery and praise for Mya.

I grabbed the notarized copy I'd just made and walked over to the window.

Downstairs, the garbage truck was making its usual low roar.

Suddenly, my phone rang, it was Secretary.

"Miss Linwood, are you still at your old place? " he asked, his tone brisk and professional. "Mr. Hart wants me to confirm which major you selected at the local university. I need to notify the school in advance. "

I looked down at the emptied trash bins below, my voice barely a whisper.

"I didn't apply to any local university, " I replied quietly.

The line went quiet for a moment.

"What? " Secretary's voice shot up. "Mr. Hart wanted you to stay local. Miss Linwood, don't make things difficult. "

"I applied to Southbridge University, " I replied.

It was 1,250 miles away. It'd take over ten hours by train.

I could hear Secretary's breathing get heavier.

"Miss Linwood! Do you even know what you're doing? If Mr. Hart finds out you defied him, are you ready to deal with the fallout? " Secretary snapped.

Ten years.

Everyone thought I couldn't live without the card he topped up for me every month.

Ever since Mya was brought back into the Clark family, the girl he kept close had changed.

And me? I was just someone he summoned when he needed me, and left behind whenever he didn't.

"Secretary, " I cut him off.

"Tell Eric he doesn't need to send me allowance anymore, " I said.

"I'm not going to spend another dollar from that card ending in four zeros, " I added.

"Have you lost your mind? " Secretary snapped.

"How are you supposed to survive all the way out there, two thousand kilometers from here, without Mr. Hart? " Secretary demanded.

I didn't say another word. I hung up and blocked his number.

I turned around, opened the drawer, and pulled out a yellowed diary.

It was the only thing my mom took with her when the Clark family threw her out.

On the last page, in my mother's dying handwriting, were the words: "Charlie, don't be a vine clinging to someone else. Be your own sun. "

My fingers brushed over the rough pages, and I tucked it into the bottom of my backpack.

*****

That evening.

A black Maybach pulled up silently at the entrance of the narrow alley below my apartment.

My phone screen lit up.

Eric had sent a short voice message.

The usual street noise from the alley buzzed in the background, and Eric's voice came through cold and hard, carrying that familiar air of superiority he always used when talking to me.

"I'm giving you one minute. Get down here. Now, " Eric ordered.

Chapter 1

Right before I had to make my college choices, Eric Hart was with Mya Clark, helping her pick out a gift, arguing over whether she should get a yacht or a sports car.

One was my benefactor, the other my own sister.

But I couldn't fit in.

For the past ten years, at every family dinner, they always took the spotlight, everyone fawning over them.

And me? I spent ten years standing in the corner, never even allowed to sit at the main table with them.

After they finished choosing an overseas travel itinerary, the two of them went off to the college send-off party together.

Not a single one of them noticed I'd been left behind.

It wasn't until ten minutes before the system closed that I finally got a message from Eric.

Eric: [Mya's school is already sorted out. Just pick a local one for yourself.]

Eric: [That way, it'll be easier for me to keep sending you money. You should be grateful, right?]

But this time, I was done living on his charity.

I switched my application to an out-of-state university.

From now on, with 1,250 miles between us, we'd never have to cross paths again.

*****

The screen flashed a green "submission successful " message.

I took a deep breath.

I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the notary office, and the midday sun blazed down on the asphalt.

My phone buzzed twice.

It was from Secretary Lee.

Secretary texted: [Miss Linwood, Mr. Hart is at Mya's college send-off party and can't step away right now.]

He added: [Mr. Hart asked you to stay put at your place. He'll make time later to take you to sort out your enrollment at the local university.]

I didn't reply.

Right after that, a sixty-second voice message from Mya popped up in the family group chat.

I hit play, and the noise of the party under the chandeliers washed over me.

"Eric, I don't even know this Mr. Lee from the guest list, " Mya said, her voice sounding extra cute and coy.

"Mr. Lee's a big deal for the Southside Development. Just take a glass of juice over and toast him, leave the rest to me, " Eric replied, his voice softer than usual, almost doting.

In the background, guests were busy buttering each other up, the air filled with the clinking of glasses and plates.

I listened to the full minute, my face blank.

Seven years ago, when I stood before him with my top-of-the-class report card, he'd used that same gentle, indulgent tone, telling everyone I was his pride and joy.

But now, all of that had been completely passed on to Mya.

Back then, I would've hidden under my covers, replaying that voice message over and over, picking apart every word, desperate to find any sign he still cared about me.

But today, I didn't even have the patience to listen to the last few seconds.

I turned off the screen, slipped my phone back into my pocket, and walked into the crowd.

*****

Back in my cramped city apartment, the narrow hallway was filled with a musty smell that wouldn't go away.

I dragged an empty cardboard box out from under the bed and started clearing out the empty room.

On the desk sat a custom pen Eric had tossed to me two years ago, like it was nothing.

In the closet hung a few high-end outfits, designer clothes his secretary had picked up in batches, because he thought my old stuff looked too cheap.

All of it looked totally out of place in this cramped rental, barely over two hundred square feet.

I didn't even bother to look at them again.

I swept everything into the box and sealed it up with tape.

The family group chat was buzzing.

The Clark family relatives were all trying to butter up Mya, and Eric kept sending out cash gifts to keep the hype going.

A few minutes ago, I sent a message in the family group chat: [I've finished filling out my college preferences.]

No one replied.

My message was immediately swept away by a wave of flattery and praise for Mya.

I grabbed the notarized copy I'd just made and walked over to the window.

Downstairs, the garbage truck was making its usual low roar.

Suddenly, my phone rang, it was Secretary.

I looked down at the emptied trash bins below, my voice barely a whisper.

"I didn't apply to any local university, " I replied quietly.

The line went quiet for a moment.

"What? " Secretary's voice shot up. "Mr. Hart wanted you to stay local. Miss Linwood, don't make things difficult. "

"I applied to Southbridge University, " I replied.

It was 1,250 miles away. It'd take over ten hours by train.

I could hear Secretary's breathing get heavier.

"Miss Linwood! Do you even know what you're doing? If Mr. Hart finds out you defied him, are you ready to deal with the fallout? " Secretary snapped.

Ten years.

Everyone thought I couldn't live without the card he topped up for me every month.

Ever since Mya was brought back into the Clark family, the girl he kept close had changed.

And me? I was just someone he summoned when he needed me, and left behind whenever he didn't.

"Secretary, " I cut him off.

"Tell Eric he doesn't need to send me allowance anymore, " I said.

"I'm not going to spend another dollar from that card ending in four zeros, " I added.

"Have you lost your mind? " Secretary snapped.

"How are you supposed to survive all the way out there, two thousand kilometers from here, without Mr. Hart? " Secretary demanded.

I didn't say another word. I hung up and blocked his number.

I turned around, opened the drawer, and pulled out a yellowed diary.

It was the only thing my mom took with her when the Clark family threw her out.

On the last page, in my mother's dying handwriting, were the words: "Charlie, don't be a vine clinging to someone else. Be your own sun. "

My fingers brushed over the rough pages, and I tucked it into the bottom of my backpack.

*****

That evening.

A black Maybach pulled up silently at the entrance of the narrow alley below my apartment.

My phone screen lit up.

Eric had sent a short voice message.

The usual street noise from the alley buzzed in the background, and Eric's voice came through cold and hard, carrying that familiar air of superiority he always used when talking to me.

"I'm giving you one minute. Get down here. Now, " Eric ordered.