My Own Father Destroyed My Dream of Getting into Top Universit

The breathing on the other end of the line changed.

Victor Swanson.

He had been listening the entire time. Now, realizing I wasn't going to back down, he couldn't stay silent.

His tone was as lofty and arrogant as ever. "Do you still not realize you are wrong?"

I scoffed. "You have money—why didn't you lend it to me when I was desperate?"

"You—"

"Eighty-eight tables. Fifteen hundred to two thousand dollars a table. You have a fortune to help her show off, but not a dime to help your daughter in an emergency."

True to his professorial nature, Victor remained infuriatingly calm. "That is my money. I have the right to dispose of it as I see fit."

"I know." My grip tightened on the phone. "It's your money, your connections. Use them on whoever you want."

A breath. Steadying.

"Then how I use my future money and my time is also my business."

I hung up and turned off the phone.

Finally, the world was quiet.

...

In the adult world, there is no time for self-pity.

After being blocked from Yanda, I went to another grad school. Unwilling to settle, I tried starting a business with friends. Predictably, it failed, leaving me with several hundred thousand dollars in debt.

I had tried to borrow from my parents, but they preferred throwing banquets for strangers.

I was on my own.

I moved into the graduate dorms at my university. A cramped double room, inconvenient and loud, but I only had to pay utilities. It saved me a fortune in rent.

Without my parents, I would still pay off this debt.

Despite the business failure, I had built a network. Outsourced projects started coming in. The profit margins were decent.

I became a machine.

Intense schoolwork and freelance projects blurred together. I woke up working and collapsed into bed working. Even in the shower, my mind raced with data models and code.

My mother, unable to reach me by phone, eventually ambushed me at the school gate. She brought Aunt Lucy as a mediator.

"Isabella, why are you living in a dorm?" Mom's eyes swept over my tired face. "You hate living with other people. Why did you give up your apartment?"

I checked the time on my phone. Twenty minutes until my meeting.

"Because I can't afford rent. The dorm is free aside from utilities."

Her eyes reddened.

Aunt Lucy chimed in. "Isabella, you and your parents need to talk this out..."

"Talk about what?" I snapped. "Aren't I doing exactly what they wanted? I'm avoiding suspicion. Mom, you shouldn't be seen here. People might say I used connections to get into this school, and we wouldn't want to smear Professor Swanson's reputation, would we?"

I brushed past them and ran for the bus.

If I missed this one, I'd have to take a taxi. Until my debt was paid, every penny had to be spent with surgical precision.

A shout rang out.

"Watch out!"

*BANG.*

An electric scooter whipped around a blind corner and slammed into me.

Instinctively, I curled around my laptop bag, taking the brunt of the impact. The pavement rushed up. I rolled.

My laptop was safe.

Fire shot up my left leg. My ankle—twisted. The pain so sharp I couldn't stand.

"Daughter! Are you okay? Don't move!" Mom screamed, rushing over. "I'm calling an ambulance! You—watch where you're going!"

I gritted my teeth against the agony. "Give me the phone first. I need to send the files for the meeting."

My phone had skidded across the ground when I fell. Mom snatched it up before I could reach it.

"At a time like this, you're thinking about work? About money?" She glared at me, trembling with indignation. "Is money more important than your life?!"

She held my phone out of reach and ended the call.