My Own Father Destroyed My Dream of Getting into Top Universit

My phone nearly froze from the barrage of missed calls and notifications.

The first message was from Mom.

*You were excessive today. We raised Charlotte like our own. It hasn't been easy for her. You don't understand. We just hope she has a better life—is that wrong?*

I scrolled down to Dad's message.

*Charlotte isn't like you. She's sensitive. Yanda was her life's goal. When she thought she didn't get in, she was suicidal. I couldn't just stand by! You made a huge scene today—how is she supposed to face people now? Apologize to her immediately!*

I didn't bother reading the rest. I deleted the thread.

Another call came in. I meant to decline, but my thumb slipped.

"Isabella, your mom says you want to cut ties with the family?"

Uncle Tyler.

"Mm." Noncommittal.

"I'm not trying to lecture you," he started, his tone already patronizing, "but you're being ungrateful. Your parents worked hard to raise you, and now you want to disown them?"

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..."

"Uncle Tyler." My head was pounding. "Last year, I passed Yanda's graduate written exam. My interview scores were stellar. I was practically guaranteed a spot."

"But I didn't get in. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because my father personally went to the admissions office to block me. He thought if I got into Yanda, people would say I used his connections."

I let the words hang there.

"Charlotte was hand-picked as his graduate student. Don't you find that funny?"

Dead silence.

After a long moment, Tyler spoke again, his voice subdued. "Try to understand him. He's a renowned professor. If his sponsored student failed to get into his own university, he'd lose face."

The anger flared white-hot in my chest.

"Am I not enough to give him face?" I demanded. "I've been first in my class since childhood. I've won so many awards my hands are tired of holding them. Why must I be sacrificed for his reputation? Why is it that to avoid suspicion, I can't go to the school I love?"

"Why should we wrong our own flesh and blood for an outsider?"

My voice went cold as steel. "Tell them this. I will fulfill my legal obligation to support them financially in their old age. But that is where it ends. Just money. No family."