“And until this is resolved,” he added, “we are going to pause our help with your tuition.”
There it was. The punishment. The leash. The final tool.
Across the table, Landon’s mouth relaxed almost into a smile.
He thought he had won.
I slowly set down my napkin.
“Fine,” I said.
Relief moved around the table. My mother exhaled. My father nodded once, satisfied. Landon leaned back.
Then I stood.
“Fine,” I said again. “Keep the tuition. I don’t need it anymore.”
My mother’s expression shifted. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been accepted to a university in Washington, DC.”
Nobody moved.
“I transferred,” I said. “I leave tomorrow.”
My father stared at me. “You what?”
“You heard me.”
My mother gripped the edge of the table. “You never told us.”
I looked at her. “You never asked.”
That sentence hit the table differently than jealousy had. It did not explode. It sank. Heavy and undeniable.
Landon sat forward. “Callum, maybe we should discuss this privately.”
“No.”
The word came out calm.
His face changed.
There it was at last: fear.
I sat back down and reached for my bag. “Actually, let’s talk right here.”
“About what?” my father asked.
I looked at Landon. “The analytics engine.”
The room seemed to lose air.
Landon’s hand froze near his glass.
Savannah looked at him. “What analytics engine?”
“The one Landon has been presenting as his original work for six years,” I said.
Landon tried to laugh. It came out thin. “Cal, don’t do this.”
My mother whispered, “Do what?”
I opened my laptop and placed it on the table between the roast platter and the untouched pie. The screen lit my hands blue-white as I pulled up the comparison file. Two columns appeared.