She stayed, hovering on the roadside until my ride arrived. But old habits die hard.
"Isabella, your priority right now is your studies. Once you finish your master's, you'll have your pick of—"
I pulled up my call log and shoved the screen in her face.
"I get at least a dozen debt collection calls a day." The numbers glowed, accusing. "Do you really think I can study with this noose around my neck?" I pocketed the phone. "I'm not asking for your help anymore. Just stop interfering with my work."
Her lips parted. Dry. Brittle. "Isabella... do you hate us?"
I looked her dead in the eye.
"I'm just disappointed."
She left in a daze, like she'd been slapped.
---
Not long after, Dad appeared on the local news.
Charlotte Fox was on screen, choking back tears, thanking him. Calling him her "second father."
Dad dabbed at his eyes, playing the benevolent mentor to perfection.
I watched with hollow eyes. Then I turned off the TV and threw myself back into the grind.
---
My last project paid out fifty thousand dollars. The noose loosened—just a little.
The cash injection was gasoline on a fire. I worked with renewed fervor. If I could have split every minute in two, I would have.