The Hidden Grant

The next morning, sunlight slipped through the window blinds and spilled across my face. I blinked awake to find Elias already watching me, his expression unreadable.

“You really don’t have to go in today,” he said softly. “Just stay home.”

“I can’t,” I told him, forcing a small smile. “I have work.”

He studied me for a long moment, his jaw tight, like he wanted to argue. Eventually, he just nodded.

It took a few more quiet words before he let me go. Then he picked out clothes for me and sat down watching me get dressed.

I dressed quickly, feeling his gaze follow me, and left for work.

The office was alive with the usual office noise. Phone ringing, keyboards tapping, the espresso machine hissing like it was tired of staying there.

I sat on my desk, my laptop screen glowing faintly. My inbox was a mess with dozens of emails demanding my attention, but none of them mattered. Not today.

I typed: Stone Medical Innovation Fellowship 2013 donor records.

The company's database was a maze of old files buried under bureaucracy and bad naming habits, but I had access.

One of the few perks of being in marketing.

I clicked through folders labeled Archived Grants, Legacy Funding, Confidential.

My heart was beating fast.

There it was, a file named Fellowship_2013_Funding.p*f.

I opened it, taking a deep breath.

The first page showed a hospital foundation letterhead.

The second page held just one line.

Grant: $250,000

Recipient Pool: twelve female interns, medicine-adjacent fields

Source: Dr. Alaric Stone — Personal Endowment

My breath caught. Personal. Not from the hospital. Not a company fund. It's him.

I swallowed hard and continued scrolling. A memo was attached, dated May 2013.

“Selection criteria: academic excellence, financial need, potential to disrupt patient care paradigms. Preference for candidates demonstrating resilience in adverse circumstances.”

Resilience. I had written my essay about my mother’s cancer. How I skipped classes to sit with her through chemo, how I learned to smile while everything inside me was broken.

I clicked on the next attachment; a scanned check. Alaric’s signature was on it. Bold and sharp.

The memo line read: For Isola Wren & others.

My name was there, written by his hand.

I leaned back on my chair. The chair gave a soft, tired creak. The grant hadn’t been anonymous, not to him. 

He had picked me. Paid for me. Sat in that audience, watching like he was proud… or like he was claiming something he already thought was his.

My phone vibrated on the desk. It's Mariel.

I picked up on the second ring. “Hey.”

“You sound like you swallowed gravel, Isola.” She said immediately, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Work.”

“Liar. I can practically hear your brain overheating from Brooklyn.”

I rolled my eyes mentally. Ugh, Mariel.

There was a pause, then "coffee, four o'clock. That place on Bleecker with good croissants. And no excuses ms.”

“I…..”

“Isola.” Her voice softened. “I know you don’t want to, but please meet me anyway, do it for me, because I’m worried about you. Okay?”

I took a deep breath with my eyes closed. Then I opened it. “Four o'clock.”

She hung up.

For some time I just stared at the open P*F on the screen, then I minimized it.

There was one more file. Retreat_2013_Attemdance.xlxc.

I hesitated for a while then clicked it.

Cabin 7: Isola Wren, Alaric Stone (Keynote Speaker, Overnight Supervision).

My stomach felt cold. He had been there. All night.

I closed the laptop and sat there for sometime. Trying to wrap everything in. It was almost noon.

I need air, and food. Just anything to stop my eyes from turning me and my head from spinning.

The Elevator chimed and Elias stepped out with roses in his hand, and a bright smile

Heads turned instantly. My coworkers smiled, charmed as always. The golden boy had arrived.

He saw me through the glass wall and started walking over, calm like he owned the whole building.

Well, technically, he does. Because his family foundation had helped fund.

“Babe.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, and held out a bouquet. “Lunch surprise.”

I took the roses, careful, but the thorns still caught through the paper . “You didn't have to.”

“I wanted to.” He replied his arm slipped around my waist, his hand spreading over my hip possessively. “I missed you this morning.”

We left my office and walked to the deli across the street. He didn’t even ask what I wanted before ordering for both of us.

He ordered turkey club, no mayo — like he knew my body better than I did.

At the corner of the table, he pulled my chair out, then sat close enough for our knees to be touching each other.

“You are quiet,” he said, unwrapping my sandwich for me. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” I paused. “Just work deadlines.” I replied then took the bread.

His eyes moved to my throat. To the chain I wore which was peeking out of my collar.

The pendant. He reached out for it. Holding it curious. “New?”

“Old,” I said, keeping my face calm. “I saw it while sweeping.”

He smiled, his hand lingered on the pendant for sometime, tracing the edge. “Sharp, be careful.” He warned.

I swallowed tightly, forcing a smile. “Always.”

He leaned towards me, his breath warm on my ear. “Tonight, you’re mine. No work. No distractions.”

Then his hand slipped under the table, his fingers squeezing my thigh. “I’ll make you forget everything else.”

The deli suddenly felt smaller and suffocating. I faked a laugh. “I can’t wait.” I feigned.

He paid, and then kissed me right there in front of the cashier, just to show off and claim me. Then pulled back and left with a wink.

“Seven o’clock,” he said. “Tonight, you’re mine. No work. No distractions.”

Back at my desk, the roses were there in the vase mocking me. I reopened the spreadsheet, trying to focus.

One line blinked on the bottom then I clicked it.

Note: Dr. Stone requested Cabin 7 reassignment post orientation.

Reason: Personal interest in the mentee development.

My phone vibrated. It was an unknown number.

Ask him why he watched you sleep.

I froze, staring at the screen until it blurred. Then another message came through. A photo.

Me, twenty one, asleep on the cabin bunk. Moonlight on my face. And Alaric stood in the doorway watching me.

The caption read: Some investments last a lifetime.