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Rich Girl’s Secret Son / Chapter 10: A Promise to Return
Rich Girl’s Secret Son

Rich Girl’s Secret Son

Author: Brett Donaldson


Chapter 10: A Promise to Return

Leaving the school gate, holding the boarding notice in my hand, I breathed a long sigh of relief.

The breeze was cool, carrying the scent of grass and asphalt. I leaned against the chain-link fence, eyes closed for a moment, letting myself hope.

[That was close—almost got found out by his dad. That would’ve been fatal.]

[Charlie is pretty clever—he played both sides well.]

[He’s not playing the victim, he’s just telling the truth.]

[Don’t get too happy yet—his dad definitely won’t let him board so easily.]

The comments reminded me—this wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

I felt uneasy.

My stomach twisted with dread, reality creeping back in. Dad was always a step ahead when it came to making things worse.

The comments were right.

I clenched the boarding notice tighter, wishing it could protect me.

Mom is already confused, her health is getting worse, but at home, it’s always me and her serving that jerk.

I pictured her hunched over the kitchen sink, eyes vacant, while Dad barked orders from his recliner. The thought made me sick.

If I board at school, mom can’t handle it alone.

I knew she needed me, even if she couldn’t say it. I was all she had left.

And if I steal his money and he finds out, he’ll definitely go to the school.

He’d make a scene—show up in his stained jeans, yelling at the office staff, embarrassing me in front of everyone. Worse, he’d take it out on Mom.

……

Anxious, I went home and handed the boarding notice to my dad.

I walked in, heart pounding, the paper trembling in my hand. He was in his usual spot—sprawled on the couch, TV blaring.

As expected, my dad tore up the notice, grabbed my ear, and roared,

He yanked me close, the paper shredding in his fist. “You little brat, if you board, who’s going to take care of me, huh?”

Tears streamed down from the pain. I hurriedly explained,

I choked out my story, praying he’d buy it this time.

“My classmate’s grades are bad, but his family is loaded. We got assigned to the same dorm. He wants me to tutor him and says he’ll pay me $500 a month.”

I prayed he’d buy it. If he didn’t, I had nothing left.

My dad immediately let go. “Five hundred? What day of the month do you get paid? Why aren’t you packing up to board yet?!”

He was all business now, the promise of cash lighting up his face. Money was the only thing that ever got through to him.

I rubbed my hands. “But... the boarding fee is $50.”

I tried to look sheepish, twisting my shirt in my hands.

Seeing my dad’s eyes widen, about to get angry, I quickly added, “It’s $50 per semester.”

I held my breath, praying he’d let it go.

That’s only a few bucks a month, and my classmate promised to cover my meals.

He did the math in his head, greed winning over suspicion.

A few bucks to earn $500—he can do the math.

He grunted, half convinced.

He used to be a businessman, after all. Just had dreams too big for his own good.

In another life, maybe he would’ve been proud of me for hustling. But this was all about the money.

My dad went into the room, got $50 for me, and ordered,

He slapped the bills into my palm, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t screw this up.”

“Tell your classmate to give you the meal money in cash. I don’t care if you starve, steal, or rob. Next month on this day, I want to see $700, or I’ll skin you!”

His words were ice cold, no trace of fatherly concern. I nodded, heart thudding.

I nodded furiously and was kicked out of the house with my duffel bag.

He shoved me toward the door, duffel bag thumping against my hip. The porch light flickered as I stepped out, the night air sharp in my lungs.

Before leaving, I looked deeply at my mom.

She stood in the hallway, eyes red, lips pressed tight. I wanted to say a thousand things, but all I managed was a small, hopeful smile.

Mom, give me a week. I’ll come back to save you.

My promise echoed in my head as I stepped into the darkness, the streetlights flickering on one by one.

Please, hang in there a little longer.

I promised myself—I wouldn’t come back empty-handed. Not this time.

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