— I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t find the words.
Hope sighed heavily.
— I figured. You lost your nerve thirty years ago, and you lost it again today.
The words were harsh, but fair. Andrew didn’t argue.
— Tell me about her, — he asked. — Tell me about Kate. What’s she like?
Hope was silent for a moment, looking out the window. Then she began to speak—slowly, as if recounting a favorite story.
— She was born in April. The dogwoods were in bloom. Sarah had a hard time with the labor… the doctors weren’t sure she’d make it. But she did. And Kate did. She was tiny, but she was a fighter. They said she might have health issues, but she proved them all wrong. Stubborn, just like you.
Andrew listened, hanging on every word.
— She was a straight-A student. Wanted to be a doctor, but we didn’t have the money for med school. So she went for nursing. She’s been working since she was eighteen. Started in the ICU, then moved to pediatrics. She says it’s better there—fewer people giving up.
— What about her life? — he asked cautiously. — Is there anyone special?
— There was. About eight years ago. A decent guy, or so we thought. They were planning a wedding, picking out a dress. Then Sarah got sick, and he… — Hope waved a hand dismissively. — He ran. Said he wasn’t ready for that kind of baggage or the medical bills. Kate almost broke after that. Losing her mother and being betrayed like that… she hasn’t let anyone close since.
Andrew clenched his fists. He felt a surge of rage toward a man he’d never met. How could he? How could he leave her when she needed him most?
“And how are you any better?” a voice in his head whispered. “You left her before she was even born.”
— There’s something else, — Hope’s voice grew serious. — Something you don’t know.
— What?
— Kate’s in trouble. Real trouble.
— What kind of trouble?
— The debt is one thing. But she got caught up in a bad situation. She co-signed a loan for a friend, and the friend skipped town. Now the collectors are coming after her. They’re aggressive. Last week, someone smashed the windshield on her old car.
Andrew felt a cold fury rising in his chest.
— Why didn’t you tell me this before?
— Because it’s her life. She has to decide whether to accept your help. But you asked, so I’m telling you the truth.
— How much does she owe?
— A lot. With the interest, it’s nearly forty thousand dollars. For her, it’s impossible. She’ll never pay it off on a nurse’s salary.
Forty thousand. To Andrew, it was pocket change. Less than he spent on a single business dinner or a new watch. To Kate, it was a life sentence.
— I’ll take care of it, — he said firmly. — Tomorrow.
— No, — Hope snapped. — Don’t you dare.
— Why not?
— Because she won’t take it. She’s proud. If she finds out some rich stranger paid her debts, she’ll be humiliated. Or she’ll hate you for interfering.
— Then what am I supposed to do? Watch her get harassed?
Hope looked at him with a long, heavy gaze.
— Be her father. Earn the right to help her. Don’t just try to buy your way out of the guilt like you’ve done with everything else in your life.
Andrew looked away. She was right. Again.
— How? — he asked quietly. — How do I earn that?
— I don’t know, Andrew. That’s for you to figure out. Listen to your heart for once.
He left the facility after dark. All the way home, he thought about what he’d heard. About Kate, growing up without a father. About Sarah, dying without ever telling her daughter the truth. About himself—the coward who had spent thirty years hiding from the truth. And about the thugs who dared to threaten his daughter.
“You want to be her father?” the voice in his head asked. “Then start protecting your own.”
The next morning, Andrew called Jim into his study. Jim wasn’t just a driver; he was a former detective who had worked security for the firm for years. He was loyal and discreet.
— I need some information, — Andrew said. — This is strictly confidential.
Jim nodded. He was used to sensitive requests.
— A woman. Kate Miller… no, Kate Sokolov. — Andrew realized he didn’t even know her legal last name. — She’s a nurse at the children’s hospital. I need to know everything. Her address, her finances, and specifically, who is harassing her. Collectors, thugs, whoever they are.
Jim didn’t ask a single question. He just took the notes and left.
By that evening, a folder was on Andrew’s desk. “Kate Sarah Sokolov. 29 years old. Single. Lives in a one-bedroom apartment in the suburbs. Rent is $1,200 a month. Salary is $65k, but she takes every overtime shift available. Debt: $38,500. Co-signed for a friend named Lisa Vance, who disappeared eighteen months ago.”
The debt was held by a predatory collection agency called “Apex Recovery.” The manager was a man named Rick Barton. He had a record for harassment and intimidation. He was known for using “off-the-books” methods.
Andrew looked at the report and felt a cold, calculating anger. Not a blind rage, but the kind of focus that had helped him win business wars and build an empire. His daughter. His blood. And some low-life was threatening her.
— Jim, — he called on the intercom. — Come in here.
A few minutes later, Jim was back in the study.
— This Barton guy, — Andrew pointed to the folder. — What does it take to make him go away forever?
Comments are closed.