Chapter 5

The warehouse was located in an old industrial district of Chicago. It had a storefront in the front and a small living quarters in the back. Marcus lived in one room, and I took the other.

The room was tiny, even smaller than the one at my mother's apartment.

But through the window, I could see the open sky, the clouds, and the neighborhood cats sunning themselves on the rooftops.

I smoothed out the sheets on my bed and touched Grandma’s photo. *I’m doing okay, Grandma. Don’t worry about me.*

The shop was always busy, and Marcus had been struggling to manage it alone. Once I started helping, things became much smoother.

I memorized the inventory instantly, kept the ledger flawlessly, and could calculate invoices faster than a computer. Whenever customers came in, I greeted them, weighed their orders, packed them, and handled the payments with ease.

Sometimes Marcus would watch me and sigh. "Patience, you have a brilliant mind. You shouldn't waste it in a dusty warehouse like this."

"Then what should I do?" I asked.

"Go to college," he said simply.

I lowered my eyes and didn't answer.

A few days later, he placed a stack of papers in front of me.

"Night classes. College prep courses. Take a look."

I scanned the tuition fees. The application was three hundred, prep books were two hundred, and a semester would cost over a thousand dollars.

I pushed the papers back. "I can't afford it."

"Don't worry about the money," Marcus said softly.

I looked up at him in surprise.

"I'll pay for it," he said.

I froze.

"Marcus... I can't accept that."

"Don't call me Marcus, call me Mr. Miller," he chuckled, though his eyes were completely serious. "I tried to go to college back in the day, but I missed the cutoff score by two points. I've been stuck in this shop ever since. You have a real gift, Patience. Don't let it go to waste."

Looking into his kind, earnest eyes, my throat tightened, and tears threatened to spill.

"Mr. Miller, I..."

"No arguments. Registration is tomorrow."

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the moonlight filtering through my window, tears quietly slipping into my pillow.

*Grandma, someone is finally looking out for me.*

The night school was on the other side of the city, a one-hour bus ride each way. I worked in the warehouse during the day, closed up at five, rushed to classes, and returned around ten at night. Then, I would study until two in the morning.

Sometimes Marcus would get up in the middle of the night, see the light under my door, and bring in a cup of warm tea.

"Don't push yourself too hard. Your health comes first."

I would nod, drink the tea, and keep studying.

On the day of my college entrance exams, Marcus closed the shop to drive me to the test center. He waited outside the entire time. I don't remember what he asked when I walked out, only that he was smiling wider than I’ve ever seen.

When the results came out, I scored in the top 0.1% of the state.

Marcus's hands shook as he held the printout.

"I knew it! I knew you were a genius!"

He bought a bottle of wine that night and drank half of it himself, his face flushed with joy, laughing until tears came to his eyes.

I ended up getting a scholarship to a prestigious finance program at the state university. Marcus helped cover the remaining living expenses, insisting it was just a loan I could pay back later.

"I will," I promised. "With interest."

Throughout my four years of college, I worked constantly. I waitressed, handed out flyers, tutored, and worked retail. By the time graduation came, I had several corporate job offers. I chose a position as a junior analyst at a prominent global investment firm.

On my first day, I called Marcus.

"Mr. Miller, I got the job."

He let out a soft breath over the phone. "Work hard, kid. I'm proud of you."

"I'll start paying you back next month," I said.

"There's no rush," he replied warmly.

I stood outside the towering skyscraper downtown, looking up at the glass facade reflecting the blue sky. I thought of Grandma, the tiny country cottage, and the woman who had run away from me at the mall.

All of that was in the past now.

This was my new beginning.

***

Ten years.

How long is ten years?

It is long enough for a trade school runaway to become a CFO. Long enough for a warehouse assistant to become the CEO of a multinational investment firm’s entire regional division. Long enough for old hurts to settle to the very bottom of one's heart—unseen, until something stirs them up.

In those ten years, I never went back to that apartment.

My mother called a few times. She’d mention that Serena got into a decent college, that Serena graduated, that Serena got a job.

I’d just reply with a polite, "That's good."

"What are you doing these days?" she’d ask.

"Just working," I’d say.

"Where?"

"Out of town."

"Are you making enough?"

"Enough to get by."

Eventually, she stopped asking, and I stopped answering.

But I never forgot.

I never forgot the way she looked at me like I was a monster when I was eight.

I never forgot crouching in the dirt yard, listening to them laugh inside.

I never forgot her telling me she was too busy while Grandma lay dying.

I never forgot the tiny dark room, the gray brick wall, and the plate of food I was never offered.

I kept every single memory locked away.

This spring, my firm was handling a major acquisition.

We were looking to acquire a rapidly rising local cosmetics brand called "Serene Beauty." It was an e-commerce startup that had taken the market by storm. The founder was a young, self-made female entrepreneur, and the media loved her story.

When the due diligence file was dropped onto my desk, I was in the middle of a meeting. My assistant whispered, "Ms. Sinclair, here is the file on the Serene Beauty acquisition."

"Thanks," I murmured, not looking up.

After the meeting, I returned to my office and opened the folder.

On the very first page was the founder's biography, complete with a professional headshot.

My hand froze.

***

####