POV Kitty
My carefully constructed life crumbled piece by piece, like a tower of cards in a rising wind.
It started with an email. Formal. Apologetic. Devastating.
Dear Miss Morrow,
We regret to inform you that due to a paperwork error, your Apex Young Innovators Grant has been rescinded. We understand this is disappointing news, and we apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.
Unfortunately, this decision cannot be reversed.
I read it three times, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something that made sense. They didn't.
The grant, the achievement I'd celebrated just a month ago, the validation of everything I'd worked for, the proof that I was more than my circumstances… was gone.
Erased by a "paperwork error" that conveniently couldn't be fixed.
But I knew better. I knew exactly whose fingerprints were on this.
Arnold Ashford was sending a message. He could give, and he could take away. The sponsor of the grant was an old friend of his—of course it was.
Men like him had connections everywhere, tentacles reaching into places I'd never imagined. He was showing me what happened to people who didn't fall in line.
Without the grant, the internship evaporated next. Another polite email, another hollow apology:
The position was contingent on your award status, and we're sorry, but we'll have to move forward with other candidates.
Months of work. Years of planning. A future I could almost taste, gone in a single notification.
I stared at my laptop screen until the words blurred, willing them to change. They didn't.
Then Brianna came to my dorm, and the news got worse. "My family wants me back."
She stood in my doorway, her usual brightness dimmed, her voice flat in a way I'd never heard before."The money I gave you… it wasn't a gift. They're calling it a loan now, and they want repayment. Not in cash."
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "They want me to come home. Drop out of school. Pick up where I left off before I escaped."
"Bri, no…” The guilt hit me like a physical blow. “You can't— We'll figure something out. I'll find the money somewhere else, I'll pay them back, I'll…"
"It's done, Kitty." She shook her head, cutting me off. "Don't make it harder than it already is. I knew what I was doing when I went to them. I just didn't think they'd use it like this."
A pause.
"Actually, that's a lie. I knew exactly what they'd do. I just hoped I was wrong."
She'd given up everything for me.
Reopened wounds. Swallowed her pride. Walked back into a house she'd sworn she'd never enter again. And now she was being dragged back permanently, all because I'd needed money I couldn't get anywhere else.
The suffocating weight of it pressed down on my chest until I couldn't breathe.
And then the call came.
My mother had collapsed. The doctors were running tests, but the preliminary news was grim—her heart was getting worse, faster than anyone expected.
She was stable for now, but "stable" was a temporary word, a placeholder for "we're buying time." The medical bills were already piling up faster than anyone could count. Insurance covered almost nothing.
I took the next train home, my mind blank with shock.
The hospital room was small and sterile, filled with the soft beeping of machines keeping track of vitals I didn't understand. My mother lay in the bed, fragile and pale, smaller than I remembered.
Even unconscious, there was stubbornness in the set of her jaw—a refusal to go gently that I recognized because I'd inherited it.
The twins hovered nearby, Maya holding Lily's hand so tightly her knuckles were white. They were trying to act normal and failing miserably. Scared and pretending not to be.
I didn't have words to comfort them because I was scared too.
Later, I walked through the apartment and really looked at it.
The peeling walls I'd stopped noticing years ago. The overdue notices piled on the counter, red stamps screaming warnings I couldn't answer. The furniture held together by hope and duct tape.
The same pieces we'd had since I was a child, patched and repatched until there was nothing left to fix.
I did the math in my head, the way I always did.
Except this time, the numbers didn't lie to make me feel better.
The sum Arnold offered was more than I would earn in a lifetime. Not in finance, not anywhere, not even if every ambitious plan I'd ever made came true.
I was confident, yes. Smart and driven and willing to work harder than anyone else in the room.
But confidence didn't pay hospital bills. It didn't put my sisters through college. It didn't keep my mother alive while we waited for a miracle that wasn't coming.
Back at my dorm that night, I sat in the dark and turned it over and over in my mind.
Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. The Ashfords were difficult—I'd seen enough to know that—but I'd dealt with difficult before.
Difficult landlords who threatened eviction. Difficult professors who dismissed me before I opened my mouth. Difficult circumstances that would have crushed someone less stubborn than me.
I was smart. I was tough. I could play their game long enough to secure the money, protect my family, and get out before they swallowed me whole.
At least, that's what I told myself.
The alternative was admitting I'd already been beaten.
By morning, the decision was made. Not with peace. Not with certainty. Just the grim resignation of someone who'd run out of better options and had to choose between bad and worse.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number Arnold had left me. It rang twice before he answered, his voice smooth and unsurprised, like he'd been expecting this call all along. He probably had.
"Miss Morrow." Not a question. A confirmation.
"I'll do it." My voice came out steady despite the knot in my stomach, despite the part of me screaming that this was a mistake. "But I have conditions."
There was a pause on the other end. Brief. Considering.
I could almost hear him calculating, weighing whether my conditions were worth the trouble or whether he'd simply steamroll over them like he did everything else.
"Very well," he said finally, his tone betraying nothing. "We'll meet tomorrow to discuss terms. My driver will collect you at noon."
The line went dead.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, trying to feel like I'd made a choice rather than been cornered into one.
I didn't succeed.