which no one believes in anymore, stopping me from doing something good with my life. Something that makes me happy.”
My father stirred in his chair, rolling it sideways like he was already leaving this argument. He stared at the empty fireplace, the last bits of summer holding on as the September sun drifted through the curtains of the dark and heavily decorated room. It hadn’t been revamped since the early 1900s.
“Spencer.” He continued to stare off, his hand rolling into a fist on his desk. I knew I should have stopped, but frustration pushed me to keep fighting.
“I am nineteen.” My birthday had been a week ago. “I don’t need permission to go to a top university. I mean, this is an immensely prestigious school!”
“You do if it costs money!” He slammed his rolled hand down on the surface, causing me to jump in my chair. He spun to face me. “Money I provide! So yes, you do need my permission. And your uncle’s!” he barked, his face flushing burgundy. My father rarely let his temper show. “No matter what, you couldn’t attend anyway.”
“Why?”
He shook his head, standing up, straightening the papers on his desk. “This conversation is over.”
“Tell me. Why?” I countered his movement, leaning toward him. “Stop treating me like a little girl. Or as if I’m not allowed to be part of this because I am a girl. I’m the eldest. This is mine someday too.” At least Fredrick was modern enough to allow Wentworth House to go to me and my little sister, Olivia. Landen would inherit the larger Chatstone Manor. We all planned to sell the moment we could.
“I will not.” He shoved the papers to the side, his anger bursting at the seams.
“Dad. Please.”
“Because we can’t afford it,” he snapped, his chest heaving in a deep gulp of air, his eyes landing on me.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He regrouped, peering down at his files. “Go check on your mother; she had a migraine this morning.”
She always had a headache, mostly brought on by alcohol and the stress she created.
“Dad,” I said softly.
“Spencer. Please. I have enough on my plate today.” He gazed at me, looking exhausted. Defeated.
Biting down on my lip, I nodded, retrieved the letter, and headed for the door.
“Spencer.” He stopped me, turning my head to look at him. “I really am sorry.”
“Yeah.” I gripped the door in my hands. “Me too.”
I stepped out, shutting the door behind me. My heart heavy, I rushed outside, trying to hold back the tears. The breeze wound around my hair as I growled deeply at the blue sky. “Fuck!” I locked the scream down so no one would hear me, but it tore at my throat. Caged. I felt trapped in this life. I knew I had a lot to be grateful for, but it struck me that any so-called “ordinary” family would be thrilled for their daughter to be accepted to this university. Encourage her to follow her dreams. It was only the nobles who would take such an achievement and make it feel like nothing.
“Spencie!” My younger sister waved to me as she skipped up the walkway from the garden, a flower crown in her long strawberry-blonde hair. She had a darker shade of my father’s eyes.
Olivia could lose herself in her imagination for hours out in the garden, playing and singing to herself. We were a little more than eight years apart; she had turned ten in June and was a strange mixture of being too old for her age and too immature. She didn’t really fit with girls in her class, not interested in what they were into. She was like this old soul stuck in a body who still loved to play make-believe, talking to flowers and humming happily to herself, lost in her dream world.
Responsibility had yet to be pinned on her, she was still carefree and starry-eyed. Sometimes I felt like keeping her protected from life as long as I could, but then another part of me knew we were doing her no favors anymore.
Plopping down on the back steps, I batted back my grief clogging my throat, staring at “Dear Ms. Spencer Helen Sutton, Congratulations! It is our great pleasure to offer you admittance …” My teary vision blurred out the rest, my hand crumpling the note. The admittance lady warned me that my window to accept their offer was closing tomorrow. This was my last chance to change my father’s mind.
I felt gutted. Everything I had done, all the