Chapter 3
The fluorescent lights of the county hospital emergency room hummed with a sterile, relentless intensity. Clara sat on the edge of the examination table, gently applying an antiseptic wipe to Leo’s scraped knuckles. Leo stared down at his blue school shirt, where a large, grey smudge of asphalt dust stained the chest over his heart. The physical pain from the tackle had begun to dull into a deep, throbbing ache across his lower back, but the psychological weight of the courtyard incident hung heavier in the air. For months, Leo had kept the daily humiliations to himself, knowing how hard his mother worked to keep him enrolled at St. Jude. He knew the tuition waivers were precarious, dependent entirely on his maintaining a straight-A average and enduring the quiet cruelty of students who viewed him as an interloper in their gilded playground.
"You should have told me sooner, Leo," Clara said quietly, breaking the silence of the exam room. She disposed of the soiled wipe in a medical bin and tossed him a clean white t-shirt from her hospital locker bag. "I know why you stayed silent. You wanted to protect the scholarship. But your safety, your dignity, and your mental health are worth infinitely more than any elite education." Leo changed into the t-shirt, folding his school uniform carefully and placing it inside a plastic bag. The blue shirt, once a symbol of his hard work and academic ambition, now felt tainted. "Julian said something else right before you pulled up, Mom," Leo murmured, looking down at his sneakers. "He said my scholarship was a charity case funded by a ghost. He mentioned that my father’s old research grant was somehow tied to the Vance family’s initial endowment twenty years ago."
May you like
Clara’s hands froze as she reached for her stethoscope. The air in the small exam room seemed to drop ten degrees. For a fraction of a second, a flash of pure panic crossed her features—an expression Leo had never seen on his mother’s face before. Clara was a woman defined by her unbreakable composure, yet the mention of an old research grant and the Vance family seemed to strike a raw, deeply buried nerve. She quickly recovered, smoothing her features into a mask of professional calm, but the damage was done. Leo knew instantly that there was a history between their families long before he and Julian ever stepped foot onto the St. Jude courtyard.
"Julian is a boy who repeats whatever ugly rumors he overhears at his dinner table, Leo," Clara said, her voice measured, though her fingers trembled slightly as she zipped her bag. "He knows nothing about history, and he knows nothing about your father." She walked over and placed a reassuring hand on Leo's shoulder. "We are going home. But first, we are going to make a formal police report regarding the assault. St. Jude has covered for Julian Vance for the last time. It is time the truth came out into the open, no matter how uncomfortable it might be for the people sitting in the glass towers."
