"I didn't have a choice." I stayed seated. "My parents had plenty of money to host a gala for a stranger but nothing to lend me when I was drowning. I fell behind on tuition. On credits. Suspension was the only option."
I leaned forward, mocking. "I'm so pitiful, Dad. Why don't *you* help me?"
"I really don't get it." My voice dropped, quiet and dangerous. "You pour your heart and soul into an outsider, yet you're ruthless to your own flesh and blood."
"I used to think you were a man of integrity. Rigid, but fair." A sneer twisted my lips. "But after watching what you did for Charlotte Fox, I realized the truth. My father isn't noble. He's just a politician playing a game."
I had figured out his angle a long time ago.
Dad was up for full professorship next year. He'd failed the evaluation multiple times. Yanda was shark-infested waters—talent everywhere, his credentials merely average. He needed an edge. He needed *hype*.
What generated more "positive energy" than a heartwarming story? The noble professor sponsors a poor student—who then gets into the very university where he teaches.
At such a critical juncture, he couldn't afford to let *me* get into Yanda. People might whisper. They might say he pulled strings for his daughter, tainting his "impartial" reputation.
But I could have passed that entrance exam on my own merit.
In his grand scheme, he got the fame. Charlotte got the benefits.
And I?
I was the sacrificial lamb. Played like a fool.
Now suspended. Drowning in debt.
Exhaustion seeped into my bones. "If you want to avoid suspicion so badly, let's make it permanent."
My gaze hardened. "From today on, act like you don't have a daughter."
