Chapter 4 - The University Account
I locked myself in the home office, pulling my laptop onto my lap as I sat by the window. Downstairs, I could hear the muffled sound of Brooke wailing hysterically and Bella slamming dresser drawers in the guest room upstairs.
Good. Let them pack.
I opened my web browser and logged into my banking portal. The dashboard displayed a neat, orderly breakdown of my assets—accounts that my family had spent years assuming were entirely dependent on parental approval, completely blind to the fact that I was the one funding their lavish lifestyles through my clandestine work as a senior cybersecurity consultant for corporate forensic firms.
My mother’s phone number was still blinking stubbornly on my call log, blocked from ringing through, but accumulating a mountain of frantic voicemails.
I clicked over to a separate tab: Bella’s University Tuition Portal.
Two days ago, I had removed my primary credit card from her auto-pay profile, cutting off the monthly allowance and textbook stipends I had been quietly subsidizing for her master’s degree in interior design.
Now, I wanted to see what happened when a parasite realizes the host has disconnected the IV.
The screen refreshed. A bright red warning box flashed across the center of the student portal:
ACCOUNT DELINQUENT. REGISTRATION FOR SPRING SEMESTER LOCKED. OUTSTANDING BALANCE DUE: $14,850.00.
Right beneath the balance was a message box where Bella had apparently tried to submit an urgent appeal to the bursar’s office, claiming that her family’s primary funding source had experienced a “sudden technical glitch” and begging for an extension.
I clicked Decline Appeal.
Then, just for good measure, I navigated to the billing settings, updated the administrative contact email to my personal address, and added a formal note on behalf of the financial sponsor: Sponsorship terminated permanently due to academic fraud and misrepresentation of funds.
Before I could close the tab, a sharp rap sounded at the office door.
I didn't look up from the screen. “I told you, you have until noon.”
The door pushed open slowly. Bella stood in the frame, her eyes red-rimmed, her designer puffer coat zipped up tight, and her car keys dangling from her fingers. Brooke was standing behind her in the hallway, sniffling into a balled-up tissue, surrounded by three half-zipped duffel bags.
“You really did it, didn't you?” Bella asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and impotent rage. “You cut off my tuition.”
“You’re thirty years old, Bella,” I said, finally closing my laptop and looking up at her. “Time to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. Isn't that what you always told me when I was struggling to finish my degree while raising Grace?”
“Mom and Dad are going to disown you,” she spat, her voice shaking. “When they get back from Hawaii—if they ever manage to get back—they’re going to write you out of the will completely!”
I let out a soft, genuine laugh. “What will, Bella? The one where Dad’s debts outweigh his assets by half a million dollars? Please. Do me a favor and let them know they can keep their imaginary inheritance.”
Bella stared at me for a long, silent moment, searching my face for any sign of hesitation, any crack in the armor. She found nothing.
May you like
“You’ll regret this, Elena,” she whispered, turning on her heel and marching down the hall. “You’re completely alone. And when you have nobody left, don't come crying to us.”
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