A week later, Elsa sat quietly on the edge of her bed, her mind drifting back to the cheque tucked safely inside the pages of a book in her drawer. It represented an astronomical sum—enough to finally walk away from the crushing weight of her current life and go back to college. The name printed at the top as the issuer, Jordin Marson, carried a palpable gravity. She sensed just how powerful he was, an elite figure of immense wealth and influence who moved in circles so far above her own that protesting or negotiating felt entirely out of the question.
Sighing softly, she closed the drawer, stepped out into the living room, and poured herself a glass of water, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.
On the couch, Lucy was completely absorbed in her phone, an open book resting flat across her stomach. Elsa crossed the small living space, set her cup down, and pulled out a chair at their modest dining table.
For a moment, Lucy didn't look up. Elsa watched her friend in silence, the heavy reality of her new financial freedom clashing with the bitter means by which she had acquired it. She wondered, not for the first time, if Lucy had ever been with anyone, knowing instinctively that she hadn't. Lucy barely spoke to men, showing little interest in romance, keeping herself entirely pure and untouched. Elsa couldn't help a sudden wave of longing—if only she had exercised that same restraint, if only she had turned Jordin away, everything would be normal right now. Her conscience would be clear. But she had the money now, and college was finally within her grasp.
What about Lucy? the thought whispered in her mind. They could both go to college together and build a real future. But then the cold wall of reality hit her: she would have to invent an elaborate, airtight lie to explain where the tuition money came from—perhaps pretending she had won a scholarship.
"Lucy, have you ever thought about going to college?" Elsa asked, breaking the quiet.
Lucy glanced up, blinking slightly. Elsa's hair was loose, and her simple tank top and leggings clung to her slender frame. "I have. Why?" Lucy asked.
"I'm thinking of going back," Elsa said, holding her friend's gaze. "Finishing school."
"That sounds good, Elsa," Lucy replied genuinely. She had always wanted to finish her education and had secretly hoped for the same thing, though she had pushed the dream aside because she simply didn't have the funds. "What are you going to study?" she asked, before looking back down at her phone screen.
Elsa stared blankly at the wooden grain of the table. "Something in business, I think."
Lucy gave a small, encouraging nod. "That sounds nice," she murmured, offering a warm smile before dropping her gaze to her device once more.
Elsa rested her chin on her hand, studying her. She wondered if Lucy had ever truly believed a second chance at education was possible. She pictured a future of campus life—the lectures, the studying, the chance to finally rise above their circumstances.
"What about you?" Elsa pressed gently. "What would you study?"
Lucy looked up again, a spark of genuine excitement in her eyes. "Probably property law. Or just regular law. Something like that."
"That's nice," Elsa said softly, though the question had initially been asked just to be polite.
Lucy shrugged, looking back down as the digital glow illuminated her face. She hadn't seriously entertained the thought—not when the tuition fees were a mountain she couldn't climb, stinging all the more without parents to lean on. But she didn't let her bitterness show; it wasn't their fault the world was so unforgiving. She said nothing more. A heavy, understanding silence settled between them, a shared weight born of the exhausting daily struggle to survive. Elsa looked at Lucy, who had drifted back into her own deep thoughts, and felt a fresh wave of quiet misery. Her ugly secret kept her tongue tied, locking away any chance of simply telling the truth and sharing her newfound fortune.
Miles away in a high-rise corner office, Aaron sat in his ergonomic leather chair, his mind drifting back to a phone call from months ago. Silas had called him out of the blue, dropping news that had caught him completely off guard.
"How's work going, brother?" Aaron had asked.
"Work's fine, but I'm retiring for a while," Silas had announced.
So it's temporary. He wants to take some time off, Aaron had thought. Silas's tone had been surprisingly vibrant and warm, carrying the unmistakable warmth of a man in a good mood. Is it because of a woman? Because of Catelyn? Aaron had known immediately.
"That's unexpected," Aaron had replied aloud.
"I thought about giving up time to spend with Catelyn. We need that," Silas had said, a smile practically echoing in his heart.
"That's nice and wonderful," Aaron had told him then, supporting his younger brother's decision to sacrifice his relentless work ethic for the woman he cherished. Silas always managed his business impeccably anyway; a temporary retirement was well deserved.
They had shifted to family chatter—asking after Marcus, who was currently obsessed with flaunting his new electric scooter, and Diana, who had likely already grown bored of her latest toys. It had been a warm, comforting exchange between brothers. Silas had even casually brought up the upcoming Spring event, a major networking gala for elite business figures and shareholders, admitting he was planning to skip it to focus on his personal life.
Presently, Aaron sat alone in his office chair, the memory fading as a deep sense of frustration took its place.
It had been long long months since Catelyn shattered her relationship with Silas, and Aaron still carried a bitter resentment toward Catelyn. It simply didn't sit right with him. He couldn't shake the suspicion that Silas had only thrown himself back into work initially as a frantic distraction from the heartbreak, chaos, sadness, and depression Catelyn's sudden departure had inflicted upon his life.
Aaron felt his brother's pain acutely. Silas had loved Catelyn deeply, remaining a devoted, honest, and fiercely committed partner who had sacrificed so much for her. To Aaron, Catelyn's actions felt cruel and unjustified. Silas had told him there were no major issues, no toxic fights—she had simply ended it because she supposedly "didn't love him anymore." She hadn't even looked back, showing zero remorse for the wreckage she left behind.
While Aaron hoped his younger brother was finally finding a way to move on, a lingering bitterness remained. Silas was a dedicated, loving, and affectionate man—and Catelyn had thrown a good man away without a backward glance.