Page 51

Even in elementary school, parents push their kids to excel and be better than their peers.
Ruby
I still think it’s ridiculous… and they’re eight… eight! They’re still babies. Anyway, don’t forget wine tonight. Want me to invite Hazel?
Wren
Trust me, I won’t. I have the perfect bottle in mind. Yes! Invite her.
Doors slammed open, and voices spilled down the hall the closer I got to my class. I checked my watch, noting that I had another twenty minutes before school started.
I slipped into my room and sat at my desk, taking deep breaths. A sinking feeling settled in my chest as my phone rang.
With a shaky hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled it out.Fucking hell. Evil Stepmother flashed across the screen. I knew if I didn’t answer, she’d continue to call and disrupt my class.
“Hello, Cynthia,” I answered.
“How dare you!” she yelled.
“I’m well, and you?” I tried to keep my tone level.
“Why am I cut off?” I knew exactly what she was talking about.
“How does The Wishing Well need more money after receiving a million dollars a week ago?” I stood my ground. Over the years, she’d dipped into my trust, which had been set up to alleviate the financial burden of the foundation. Not to be used as my stepmother’s personal piggy bank.
“You question me? After I put aside my career to run this floundering charity.” She hadn’t put aside her career. She’d stopped getting modeling jobs. Not because she wasn’t beautiful but because she was a horrible human being.
“Then give it to me to run.” We’d had this argument more times than I could count over the years.
“Never,” she spat.
If I finally stopped showing interest in the foundation, she might hand it off to me. But knowing how badly I wanted it, she kept it from me.
“Then what else can you do?” I was tired of fighting her on this.
“I could let this organization run itself into the ground while also letting a few pictures I own leak.” I sucked in a breath, knowing exactly what she referenced. She hadn’t brought up those photos since the day they’d been taken. It was also the day I quit modeling. I thought I had every copy in my possession.
I was wrong. Now I realized that the pictures hadn’t disappeared. She’d been biding her time to use them to manipulate me.
“What do you want?” I got out through gritted teeth.
“An allowance.” What the actual fuck?
My father had left her plenty of money when he died. Her extravagant lifestyle was her downfall, and the plastic surgery that kept her looking youthful.
I stayed silent, afraid of what I might say. I’d tell her to shove it if my job wasn’t already in jeopardy and there wasn’t a vague clause about inappropriate literature in my contract. In reality, I didn’t need this job. I had plenty of money in my trust, but the fact was I loved my job, the kids, and most of my co-workers. Teaching was what I was born to do. If I got fired from this position, I’d have a hard time getting a new one without a good reference.
“Nothing to say now?” I wanted to smack the smug look I knew was likely gracing her face.
“How much?” Cracks created unsteady lines within my heart and soul. Giving in to her was like losing a piece of myself.
“One hundred thousand a week to start.”
“A week?” To start? Was she out of her ever-loving mind? “Eventually, you’ll drain me dry. What will you do then?”
Muffled voices sounded through the phone. “I need to go. Transfer the first payment today.”
“What if I buy the position from you?”