Chapter 31
Andrea stepped off the bus, her breath visible in the crisp winter air. Snow clung to the sidewalks of her small hometown, a far cry from the grandeur of Blackthorn Academy. The streets were quieter here, the buildings smaller, but it felt familiar. Grounding.
Her mother was waiting at the stop, bundled up in a well-worn coat that had seen better days. As Andrea approached, her mother’s face lit up with a smile that made the lines around her eyes deepen.
“There’s my girl,” her mom said, pulling Andrea into a tight hug.
Andrea returned the embrace, her chest tightening. “Hi, Mom.”
“You’ve grown thinner,” her mother said, stepping back to look her over. “Are you eating enough at that fancy school of yours?”
Andrea laughed softly. “The food’s fine, Mom. Really.”
Her mother smiled, but Andrea could see the worry etched into her features—the kind of worry that came from years of late nights and unpaid bills.
“Come on,” her mom said, picking up one of Andrea’s bags. “Let’s get you home.”
Their house was exactly as Andrea had left it: small, cozy, and a little too cold in the winter. The worn furniture and faded wallpaper told the story of a family that had seen better days. But it was home, and it was enough.
“Tea?” her mother asked, heading to the kitchen.
“Sure,” Andrea said, dropping her bags by the couch. She hesitated for a moment before reaching into the side pocket of her largest bag.
When her mom returned with two steaming mugs, Andrea held out an envelope.
“What’s this?” her mom asked, frowning slightly.
Andrea smiled nervously. “Open it.”
Her mother set the mugs down and carefully opened the envelope. Her eyes widened as she pulled out the stack of bills inside.
“Ten thousand dollars,” Andrea said quietly. “Well, almost. It’s from the academy sponsorship program. And some of it’s…” She hesitated, not wanting to explain too much about Damien’s discreet “gifts.” “It’s for us. To help with everything.”
Her mom’s hands trembled as she stared at the money. “Andrea, this is…” Her voice broke, and she looked up at her daughter with tears in her eyes. “How did you—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Andrea said gently. “It’s ours now. You can finally breathe a little, Mom. Pay off some of Dad’s debt, fix the furnace. Whatever we need.”
Her mother covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking as tears slipped down her cheeks. “You’ve done so much already, sweetheart. I don’t know how to thank you.”
Andrea reached out, taking her mom’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve done more for me than I’ll ever be able to repay.”
The next day, Andrea stood in the local bank, her shoulders squared and her chin lifted.
She was face-to-face with the branch manager, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and an air of impatience.
“I understand your position, Miss Riley,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “But the interest rate on your father’s loan is fixed. It’s not something we can just… lower.”
Andrea leaned forward, her voice calm but firm. “Mr. Grant, with all due respect, this isn’t just about numbers. It’s about my family. We’ve been loyal to this bank for years, and we’ve paid every cent we owe, even when it’s been difficult. All I’m asking is for a little flexibility.”
Mr. Grant frowned, shuffling the papers on his desk. “It’s not that simple—”
“It is that simple,” Andrea interrupted, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Lowering the rate even a little would mean the difference between scraping by and finally getting ahead. You have the authority to make that call. I’ve done my research.”
Mr. Grant’s lips tightened, but there was a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “You’re very persuasive, Miss Riley.”
“I’m determined,” Andrea corrected, holding his gaze.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. I’ll approve a reduction, but only a modest one. Don’t expect miracles.”
Andrea smiled, her relief hidden behind her calm exterior. “Thank you, Mr. Grant. You won’t regret it.”
Later that evening, Andrea sat by her bedroom window, her breath fogging the glass as she stared out at the snow-covered street. The town was quiet, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could finally think.
She thought about the past semester—the chaos, the danger, the unexpected alliances. She thought about Nathaniel, his steady presence and quiet strength.
Her phone buzzed on the windowsill, pulling her out of her thoughts. She picked it up and smiled faintly at the message on the screen:
“Already missing you, Queen.”
