I can do that. Good. Victoria smiled. and it was genuine. Now, let’s talk about what this foundation is actually going to do. They spent the next 3 hours going through everything. Target communities, program ideas, potential partnerships with existing nonprofits, funding structures. Victoria had clearly been thinking about this for a while, but she wanted Noah’s input on everything.
What would have helped you? She kept asking. When you were struggling, she kept up. What would have made a difference? Noah thought about late nights worrying about rent, about skipping meals so Emma could eat, about the grinding exhaustion of working yourself to the bone and still falling behind. Stability, he said finally, not charity, but actual stability.
Help finding better jobs instead of just surviving in bad ones. Child care that doesn’t cost more than you make. Housing assistance that’s designed for working families instead of assuming everyone who needs help is unemployed. Okay, so direct services, job placement, childare subsidies, housing support. What else? Legal help.
A lot of people get screwed by landlords or employers because they can’t afford lawyers and health care. One medical emergency can destroy a family’s finances. Victoria was taking notes on her tablet, nodding. This is good. This is exactly the kind of thinking we need. They worked through lunch, which Clare brought in without being asked.
sandwiches and coffee that was significantly better than anything Noah had made at home. Around 2:00, Victoria’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and made a face. I have to take this board meeting prep. But Noah, she paused at the door. You’re doing great. Don’t let people like David make you doubt that.
After she left, Noah sat in his new office looking at the notes they’d made and felt something unfamiliar. hope maybe or purpose. The sense that he might actually be able to do something meaningful instead of just surviving dayto-day. The feeling lasted until he checked his phone and saw 17 missed calls from a number he didn’t recognize. Noah called the number back and a woman answered on the first ring. Mr. Bennett.
Yes. This is Jennifer Hullbrook from Metro News. I’m calling about your relationship with Victoria Sinclair. Can you confirm that you’re now working for her foundation? Noah’s stomach dropped. How did you get this number? Public record. Mr. Bennett, is it true you met Miss Sinclair when you rescued her from a stranded vehicle? What can you tell us about? Noah hung up.
His phone immediately started buzzing again. Different number. He declined the call. Another call. Another decline. Then a text from a number he did recognize. Emma’s school. Mr. Bennett, please call the office when you have a moment. Nothing urgent, but we need to discuss a situation. Noah’s hands were shaking when he dialed the school.
The secretary picked up immediately. Mr. Bennett, thank you for calling back. Emma’s fine, but we had a situation today during lunch. A woman approached the playground fence and attempted to speak with Emma. One of our teachers intervened, and the woman left, but she claimed to be a reporter and said she was looking for information about you.
The hope Noah had been feeling evaporated instantly, replaced by cold rage. Someone tried to talk to my daughter. You She didn’t make contact. Our protocols worked, but I wanted you to be aware. The secretary’s voice was kind but professional. We’ve increased supervision and alerted all staff, but you might want to speak with Emma tonight. She was a bit shaken.
I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Noah grabbed his jacket and was halfway to the elevator when Victoria appeared. Noah, what’s wrong? Was he reporters? Someone tried to talk to Emma at school. His voice was tight. This is exactly what you warned me about, and it’s been one day. One day, and they’re already going after my daughter.
Victoria’s expression hardened. Claire, her assistant appeared instantly. I need you to call our legal team now and get me the contact information for Metro News’s editor. Victoria turned back to Noah. Go get Emma. Bring her here. I’ll handle the reporters. Victoria, I can’t. Yes, you can.
Emma can wait in one of the conference rooms. There’s a TV, comfortable chairs, privacy. She’ll be safer here than at school right now. Victoria was already texting on her phone. And Noah, I’m sorry. I should have anticipated this and put protections in place before you started. It’s not your fault. It’s absolutely my fault.
I know how these people operate and I should have been proactive. She looked up from her phone, but we’re going to fix this. I promise. Noah wanted to argue, wanted to say that fixing things wasn’t that simple, but Emma was more important than his pride. Thank you, he said, and meant it. The drive to Emma’s school felt like it took forever.
Noah’s mind raced with worst case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. Emma was waiting in the principal’s office when he arrived, looking small and confused and not quite scared, but definitely unsettled. “Dad?” She ran to him, and Noah scooped her up, even though she was really too big for that now. “You okay, sweetheart?” Some lady wanted to ask me questions through the fence. Mrs.
U Patterson made her leave. Emma’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. She said she wanted to know about you and the rich lady you’re working for. I know. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, but why would reporters want to talk to me? Noah didn’t have a good answer for that. Because people are invasive and awful. Because the news cycle runs on drama and everyone’s personal life is potential content.
