Page 35 of Broken Dream

Just the person I don’t want to see.

“I suppose,” I say.

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms. “You can’t see your boyfriend today.”

I glare at him. Seriously? We’re in medical school, not middle school. And this guy is at least ten years older than I am. Does he still have the brain of a teenager?

“Just shut up already,” I say, brushing past him.

But he catches up to me, walks next to me. “You can deny it all you want, Angie. I know what I saw.”

“When was the last time you visited an eye doctor?” I ask. “I think your eyes are playing tricks on you.”

“You think I should change my focus from surgery to ophthalmology?” He rolls his eyes.

“This is only our second semester of med school,” I say. “I’m sure we’ll all change our focuses many times before we get to internship.”

He sneers. “Really? I got the idea yesterday in class that you’re completely sold on psychiatry. Because of your famous aunt.”

I raise a hand in front of his arrogant face. “You don’t know anything about my aunt. You don’t know anything about my family. You don’t?—”

“I know a lot,” he says, interrupting me. “I know you didn’t get that uppity townhome in a gated community by working for it. That’s for sure.”

“So I have a trust fund,” I say. “And yeah, it’s a big one.”

“I’m sure it is. While the rest of us are taking on hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, you basically get a free medical education. And you’re not even going down a path worth taking.”

I grit my teeth. “Psychiatry is a worthy pursuit.” I stare straight into his eyes. “You sure as hell could use a session or two, I’m sure. And why is my life any business of yours anyway? I’m paying my tuition.”

“With Mommy and Daddy’s money,” he says.

I’m so tired of this. I’m so tired of explaining to people that it’s not my parents’ money. It’s my money. It’s been my money since I was born. That’s when the trust funds started, for my brothers and sister and all my cousins.

I don’t blame them for not understanding, but I’m sick and tired of it. I was born into riches. Born into the Steel dynasty. I’m done apologizing for it.

“It’s my money,” I say succinctly. “And this conversation is over.”

“So what’s it worth to you?” he asks.

“What is what worth to me?” I say, my voice on edge. Here we go again.

“For me to not go to the dean about you and Jason Lansing making out?”

My heart nearly stops.

Blackmail now? Extortion? It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to our family. But it is the first time it’s happened to me.

I hold my ground. “Since the kiss you’re talking about never happened, it’s not worth a damned cent to me.”

“What if I said I had evidence?”

I do my best to keep from reacting. “You don’t have any evidence. To have evidence of something, it has to have actually happened.”

He curls his lips. “I may have just snapped a photo with my phone.”

My flesh goes cold. Still, I’m convinced he’s bluffing.

“Show me.”