Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Duncan’s lip curls as she waves hello, and he tucks his hand in his pants pocket, turning back to me. “How much of your programming here relies on outside funding, would you say?”
“I… A lot, I guess.” We have monthly meetings to discuss our funding, apply for new grants, write proposals to acquire donor money for the accessible programming. We rent out spaces to local community organizations to bring in extra money and allocate it for resources.
He nods and hums. “Through the foundation, our family donates an exceptional amount of money to worthwhile organizations.”
“I can imagine you do.”
His smile turns cold. “I suppose until recently that’s all you could do, wasn’t it? Just imagine.”
I swallow past the horrible lump forming in my throat.
“Do you think you’re worthwhile?”
My stomach twists. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
His icy gaze holds mine. “Don’t you, though? You’re nothing but an opportunistic whore. Having the Grace name will never make you one of us. You’re nothing but a distraction for my son. He’ll get tired of you, Dred.”
Duncan smooths a hand over his tie, lip twitching with satisfaction. “Don’t get comfortable, sweetheart. Everything you have can disappear.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that.” His smile is full of malice as he spins around and walks away.
I reach for the hair tie around my wrist, but there isn’t one.
Everything he’s accused me of is a fresh slice on an unhealed cut. This morning money appeared in my bank account and a big part of me ached over it, because the weekend I’d just spent with my husband had felt so real. I’d shared pieces of myself with him, invited him inside me. But the fragile fairy tale broke the moment that money hit my account. I can care about Connor, but it doesn’t change the fact that I signed a contract to be his wife.
My body is numb, my blood turned to ice in my veins. A young woman comes up to check out a book, and I woodenly go through the process, attempting polite and friendly when all I feel is devastation. Once she’s taken care of, I slip into the breakroom, hoping to have a minute to calm the hell down. But Dorothea is in there with several other staff, and the tone is somber.
“What’s going on?” A sinking feeling amplifies as I absorb the faces of my colleagues. They look as destroyed as I feel.
“We just lost our biggest donor.” Kenny runs a rough hand through his hair.
And in that moment, I’m certain it’s the work of the man who just walked out the door. That he’d spite Meems like this, just to hurt me, takes my breath away.
“We’ll have to cut so many programs if we can’t find a new one,” Odette says.
“Do we have anywhere else to pull from?” I already know we don’t. All that money for services rendered is likely accounted for. The fundraising gala will be more important than ever if we’ve just lost our primary funder.
“We’ll have to audit everything that isn’t necessary,” Dorothea informs us.
Anxiety grips my heart. “Will we have to cut programs that are already in session?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she admits. “We’ll have to run all the numbers, but anything that isn’t tied to schools or doesn’t have city funding will likely have to go.”
That’s basically everything under my umbrella. “I can start writing proposals. Maybe we’ll be able to bridge the programming.” The moms-and-tots programs, all the things I’ve set in place, are at risk—all because Connor’s father wants to cause me pain for wearing a name he doesn’t think I deserve.
But maybe he’s right. I didn’t earn the Grace name. I just happened to be the damsel in distress, looking for a way out of the hole that had been dug for me. I’m using Connor, and Connor is using me. It comes with a price, and this is it.
But it felt like something real this past weekend. It’s felt like something real for a while.
“We’ll figure it out,” Kenny says. He looks to me. “You could talk to your husband. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”
I look at him blankly. Telling Connor will only cause more problems. And I certainly cannot tell Meems and risk the strain on her already struggling heart. But I can run the numbers for my own programs and pull from my enhanced savings. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I spend the rest of the day researching grant opportunities and emergency funding sources between my regular duties, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed by the time I leave work. My phone pings with new messages as I trek up the steps of the subway to my car, which is currently one of Connor’s cars. Driving around in a Rolls-Royce is highly conspicuous, so I park on the subway line and take the train to work. Connor took Betty to the mechanic, and she’s undergoing extensive surgery because I refuse to give her up, and Connor refuses to let me drive her until she’s been serviced properly. This is the least-expensive car option available in Connor’s garage, unless I let him buy me something new, which I will not.