Chapter 1

I sponsored a kid from a dirt-poor rural town for ten straight years.

From middle school to college graduation, I covered everything: tuition, rent, clothes, groceries, and even his first car and corporate job.

I hired him at my own firm, paid his apartment lease, and bought him a car.

I asked for nothing in return. All I wanted was someone to talk to when the days felt too empty.

Lately, though, he’d grown distant. I figured he was just an adult now, pulling away from an older generation.

Until this afternoon, when I walked toward the office breakroom.

Through the cracked door, I heard him whispering on the phone:

"That cash cow is still breaking her back saving up for me. I can’t even be bothered to play the sweet nephew anymore."

"She’s single, no kids. All I have to do is toss her a little fake attention. Once she kicks the bucket, every single dime goes to me."

I gripped my tumbler in silence.

I turned around and texted HR:

"Run his probation review strictly by the book. No special treatment. Don’t hold back on my account."

Hot water splashed onto the back of my hand. It scalded.

Yet that sudden sting couldn't hold a candle to the icy pit dropping into my stomach.

I didn’t push the door open.

Turning on my heel, I kept my footsteps feather-light on the carpet and walked back to my desk. I set the tumbler down. The water's surface still trembled.

Just like my pulse.

Ten years.

Ten whole years.

The most absurd thing I, Peyton Vance, had ever done in my life was dumping endless money into a stranger's kid for an entire decade.

When I first met Luke, he was twelve. Skinny as a rail, with eyes equal parts stubborn and timid.

He wore a jacket with frayed cuffs and had raw, bloody chilblains on his knuckles.

Back then, my startup had just turned its first real profit. On an impulse, I joined a charity drive out in an impoverished mountain county.

Luke had stood by the classroom doorway, staring at the brand-new backpacks inside the donation bins for the longest time, never daring to reach out.

I asked the principal about him.

The principal sighed, explaining that the boy had stellar grades, but his dad had skipped town, his mom had remarried, and he lived with elderly grandparents. He probably couldn't afford next semester.

My heart softened on the spot. I promised right then that I would pay his way.

From that semester on, the wire transfers became clockwork.

Tuition, dorm fees, textbooks, living expenses—not a single penny missing.

When he got into a top magnet high school, I wired extra for new tech and clothes.

When he was accepted into a prestigious college, I took a flight just to celebrate with him.

His grandparents had gripped my hands with tears streaming down their weathered faces, sobbing that I was their family's savior.

Through his four college years, I sent a monthly allowance of a few hundred dollars, topped with generous holiday cash, designer seasonal clothes, the latest iPhone, and a top-tier MacBook.

The year he graduated, I brought him to the city, gave him an entry-level position at my company, and paid him twenty percent above the standard starting salary.

His first week, I covered the security deposit and full rent for a one-bedroom apartment right near the office.

Two months later, when he whined about the commute, I put down eight grand on a brand-new car for him.

He was supposed to cover the monthly auto payments.

In reality, I quietly transferred him the exact payment amount every single month, more punctual than an alarm clock.

I thought I was nurturing a decent young man who'd appreciate a helping hand.

What a damn joke.

I leaned back against my leather chair, staring at the dense spreadsheets on my monitor, unable to process a single number.

Beyond the glass wall of my executive office, I had a clear line of sight to Luke's desk.

He was leaning back with his legs crossed, scrolling through his phone with a lazy smirk, thumbs flying across the screen.

I knew that face well. Whenever he was in front of me, he wore that exact rehearsed, docile, perfectly calibrated smile.

"Peyton, you look radiant today."

"Peyton, I stayed up all night polishing this project draft. Could you take a look?"

"Peyton, it’s freezing outside. I picked up a heated mug warmer for your desk."

Peyton.

He always said it like I was his favorite aunt.

A bitter chuckle slipped past my lips. I pulled up my online banking app, scrolling through ten years of transaction records.

Entry after entry, filling pages. Starting from small support funds, swelling into lump sums of five figures.

A quick tally showed that direct transfers alone exceeded a hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

Factor in the car down payment, monthly car loans, apartment lease, shopping, and holiday checks, and the total easily blew past one hundred and sixty thousand dollars.

Over one hundred and sixty grand.

Meanwhile, I worked eighty-hour weeks paying off my own mortgage, pinched pennies wherever I could, ate quick salads at my desk, only shopped off-season sales, and used drugstore skincare.

And on him, I had dropped a fortune without blinking.

My phone buzzed. A message popped up from Chloe, my HR director:

“Ms. Vance, Luke’s ninety-day probation ends in two weeks. Should we run the standard performance review?”

I stared at the screen for three seconds before typing my reply:

“Follow company protocol to the letter. No free passes. Don't factor in my personal relationship with him.”

I set the phone face down and exhaled a long, heavy breath.

If I was just his cash cow, then starting today, the pasture is closed.