My Dad Was Paying a Fortune

I couldn't help but wonder if I'd misheard him.

Before I could ask, my father glanced toward the banquet hall. His expression suddenly hardened. "So, this is your latest trick?"

I froze.

"Your mom told me a few days ago that you've been asking around about Kiera."

His eyes flicked over my hostess uniform.

"We're holding a celebration for her tonight, and you show up dressed like this and stand at the door. Are you trying to show me just how miserable your life is?"

My mind went blank. "I didn't know this was her party. I just came here for a part-time job."

My father let out a scoff. "A part-time job? Your mom always says you're a scheming girl. I used to think she was being too hard on you. Now, I see I just don't know you as well as she does."

I opened my mouth, but it took me a moment to find my voice. "I really didn't—"

The hotel manager hurried over.

My father glanced at me. "She shouldn't be here."

The manager called me into the staff hallway less than 10 minutes later. "You can go home for today. And you won't need to come in for the next few days either."

My heart sank.

The job paid $240 a day during the seven-day holiday. If I worked for a full week, I'd be able to make $1,680.

I'd already spent $200 on toiletries and other necessities. However, I had to save $1,000 for a new computer, and I also had plans to use the remaining $480 for food.

Breakfast would cost me about $3, lunch $7, and I'd have rolls for dinner.

But now, that plan was all up in smoke.

"Sir, I can work in another hall," I pleaded.

He frowned. "Mr. Callahan wants you out of his sight, and you're still insisting on staying?"

I clenched the hem of my uniform. "Then, can I at least get paid for today? I've already worked six hours."

"You're still making a scene?" My father was standing behind me.

"I just want my pay," I blurted.

"You're raising a fuss for a little over $200? Is this really necessary?"

My nose stung.

I took a deep breath and forced the lump in my throat back down. My nails dug deeper into my palms.

"200 dollars doesn't mean anything to you." My voice came out strained. "But I really need the money."

My father's expression darkened. "Enough. Your mother has been with me all these years and has never asked me for anything. Money is the last thing she cares about."

He looked at me with disappointment. "How are you nothing like her? All you ever talk about is money. That's all you think about."

I turned my face away and quickly wiped the moisture from the corner of my eye.

I was about to tell him that I really wasn't putting on an act when the manager spoke first. "You disrupted the event tonight. You won't be paid, and your remaining shifts are canceled."

I froze. "But I've been here since 9 a.m…"

No one answered me.

My father had already turned away.

I took a step after him. "Dad."

I wanted to ask what that $200,000 was really about.

But there was no mistaking the warning in his eyes when he turned around. "Stop playing games. You can't just claim a share of the Callahan family's wealth because you want it."

The words died in my throat.

I carefully took off my heels in the staff locker room.

My heels were bleeding. The blood had soaked into my socks, sticking them to my skin. When I peeled them off, I couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath in pain.

My phone rang. It was my mother.

"Nora, what were you thinking, showing up at Kiera's party and making a fool of yourself?"

"Mom, I didn't—"

She let out a cold laugh. "I told your father long ago that you're a scheming girl. Still, did you really have to prove him right?"

Finally, I couldn't stop the question burning at the tip of my tongue. "But Dad just said he gives you $200,000 every month—"

"Enough!" My mother cut me off. "Why is money all you ever think about recently? I've been with your dad all these years, and it was never because of his money."

She paused. "How did you end up just like those kids raised by mistresses who are so obsessed with money?"

I lowered my head, but the tears still came. I could feel the droplets plopping wetly against my knees. "I just wanted to ask—"

"What is there to ask?" Her voice turned cold. "Since you're so good at making money, don't ask me for living expenses this semester. And transfer back the $1,000 I gave you at the start of the school year."

I panicked. "Mom, that's my living expenses for the whole semester."

"Didn't you say you got yourself a job? Then, you can earn that money yourself."

The call ended just like that.

I sat in the locker room for a long time without moving. The breakfast I'd been too reluctant to eat was still sitting beside me.

I suddenly remembered what my father had said.

He said my mother had never been after his money. However, if that were truly the case, where did the $200,000 he gave her every month go?