He launched into a monologue about my parents' hardships. "Your dad just thought that girl was pitiful. There's no need to take it this far, is there?"
The city lights blurred beyond my window. I stayed silent.
"Isabella?"
"Uncle Tyler." My voice came out soft. "Since I was little, my dream was Yanda University."
"We all know that..."
"Back then, I missed the cutoff by one point. I begged Dad for help. He's been at Yanda his whole life—getting me in would have been trivial. He told me he despised people who used connections."
Silence on the other end.
"But Charlotte got in. Nine points short, and she got in." A dry laugh scraped my throat. "With me, it's about integrity. With someone else, it's charity. Uncle Tyler, I'm his daughter, so I have to 'avoid suspicion.' Does the student he sponsors not need to avoid suspicion? It's a double standard."
Dad sponsored several students, but none received the investment or effort Charlotte did. To the world, he was the benevolent "Papa Swanson."
To me, he was barely a father at all.
"Your dad is doing good deeds," Tyler stammered. "You shouldn't argue over..."