PART 2

Dad’s whisper sliced through the room like shattered glass.

Mom slowly turned toward him. “You know him?”

Dad did not answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the television, where Daniel Pierce stood beside me beneath the stadium lights, smiling as though he had understood the meaning of my words before I even spoke them.

Tyler grabbed the remote. “Who cares? Why is everyone acting like she won the lottery?”

Dad knocked his hand away. “Because that man is Daniel Pierce.”

Mom lowered her voice. “The Daniel Pierce?”

“The one who owns Pierce Athletics,” Dad said. “Shoes, apparel, training centers, sponsorships. Half the kids on Tyler’s team wear his brand.”

Tyler’s expression changed at once. “Wait. That’s him?”

Silence filled the room again.

I stood unnoticed in the hallway, my graduation cap still in one hand and my gown unzipped over a simple secondhand white dress.

Dad turned and finally saw me.

For the first time that evening, he appeared uneasy.

“Emma,” he said carefully. “Why was Daniel Pierce at your graduation?”

I glanced toward the television. The clip had restarted at the moment I said, “I want to thank the people who showed up.”

Mom pressed her lips together.

“He came for me,” I said.

Tyler gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Why would Daniel Pierce come for you?”

“Because I won the Pierce Future Leaders Scholarship.”

Dad blinked. “You what?”

“It pays full tuition, housing, books, and a research stipend at Columbia.”

Mom stepped backward as though the words had struck her. “Columbia University?”

“Yes.”

“You never told us,” she said.

I nearly laughed. “I tried. Twice. Dad said he was busy watching Tyler’s game footage. You told me to email it to myself so I wouldn’t forget.”

Tyler’s face flushed. “So what, he gives nerds scholarships now?”

Dad shot him a warning glance—not because Tyler had insulted me, but because he had insulted Daniel Pierce’s program.

My phone continued vibrating in my hand. Messages poured in from classmates, teachers, journalists, and unfamiliar numbers. Nina had written: GIRL, YOU ARE EVERYWHERE.

Then another message appeared.

Daniel Pierce: Emma, media requests are coming in. Do not feel pressured to respond tonight. My office can help you manage this. Also, I meant what I said. Call me if your home situation becomes difficult.

I read the final sentence twice.

Dad noticed my expression. “Is that him?”

I locked the screen. “Yes.”

His voice softened immediately, becoming almost slick. “Emma, sweetheart, this is incredible. Why didn’t you tell us Daniel Pierce was involved? We would’ve come.”

That hurt more than seeing the empty seats.

“You would’ve come for him,” I said. “Not me.”

Mom’s expression flickered. “That’s unfair.”

“No,” I said. “Unfair was saving two seats you never planned to fill.”

Tyler threw the remote onto the couch. “This is stupid. My team lost by three, and nobody cares because Emma made a sad little speech.”

Dad snapped, “Be quiet.”

Tyler froze.

Dad had never spoken to him that way.

Then the doorbell rang.

All four of us turned toward the entrance.

A black SUV waited outside, its headlights spreading across the porch. Through the window, I saw a woman in a navy blazer holding a tablet.

Mom whispered, “Who is that?”

I already knew.

Daniel Pierce had not come by himself.

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