Chapter 4
Derek showed up at 9:45 a.m.
He was wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt, no designer suit, no graduation gown.
He looked smaller than I remembered. Tired. Like he hadn’t slept in a week.
I gestured to the chair across from my desk.
He sat down.
For a minute, neither of us said anything.
Then he reached into his backpack and pulled out a thick manila envelope.
He slid it across the desk to me.
“What’s this?” I said.
“Open it.”
I did.
Inside were bank statements. Pay stubs. Handwritten receipts.
I flipped through them, confused.
“I had no idea,” he said, his voice cracking. “I swear to God, Sarah. I had no idea the money was yours.”
I stopped flipping.
Looked up at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“Mom and Dad told me it was their retirement savings,” he said. Tears were running down his face now. “They said they’d been saving it for years for my MBA. That they were proud to invest in my future. I never asked where it came from. I never thought to check.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“I watched your speech,” he said. “I heard every word. And then I went home and I confronted them. I screamed at them for hours. And finally… finally they admitted it.”
He took a shaky breath.
“They said you’d get married anyway. That some man would take care of you. That you didn’t need the money. That I was the son. That I was the only one who’d ever make them proud.”
I felt my throat tighten.
I’d spent eight years hating him for taking what was mine.
And all this time?
He’d had no clue.
“I’ve been working two side jobs since I started the MBA,” he said, nodding at the envelope. “Tutoring. Consulting for small businesses. I saved every penny. I was going to pay Mom and Dad back for the tuition once I got my signing bonus.”
He slid a check across the desk.
I looked down.
It was made out to me.
For $18,472.
“That’s everything I’ve saved so far,” he said. “My signing bonus is $60,000 after taxes. I’m giving you every cent of that. It won’t cover the interest you lost, but I’ll pay it all back. Every dollar. For the rest of my life if I have to.”
I stared at the check.
Then I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
The little boy I’d once shared my ice cream with. The kid who’d followed me around everywhere, who’d thought I was the smartest person in the world until our parents taught him otherwise.
“Why?” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“Because it’s yours,” he said. “Because you earned it. Because I watched you walk across that stage last week and I realized… I’ve spent my whole life taking things from you without even knowing it. And I hate myself for it.”
He wiped his face with the back of his hand.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said. “I don’t expect anything. I just wanted you to know the truth. And to give you what I can.”
He stood up to leave.
“Derek,” I said.
He stopped.
“Stay,” I said. “Let’s get coffee. You can tell me about the MBA. About what you want to do.”
He stared at me like he couldn’t believe his ears.
May you like
Then he nodded, a small, shaky smile tugging at his mouth.
“Okay,” he said. “I’d like that.”
