Echoes of a Stolen Life

d in the narrow, dirty hallway, a sound that didn't belong h

d so!" he yelled again, followed by a

d the check. The university. They must have sent a copy of the refund no

, but my cheap, flimsy door wouldn't hold for more than a few se

to slow down. The Liam from my past life would

his face red with anger, reached it. Sal, the landlo

ess, the single chair, and the old laptop on the floor. His expression was a mixture of disgust

alm. I leaned against the doorframe, bl

ome home! Your mother is worried sick. You run o

were stealing my future," I said, th

hat was best for this family. Noah is thriving at the university,

n his expensive suit that probably cost more than

ugh his tirade. "You didn't come here because yo

ething else crossed his face. Greed. I saw it. T

, his eyes darting to the paper in my hand. "

nt," I corrected him quietly. "The

snapped. "Give it to me. We

thousands of dollars, and now they were hunting me down in a slum f

check and slipped it

" he growled, taki

voice even. "This money is

just stared back at him, my eyes cold and empty. In my last life, I

ething new and unyielding, because he stopp

ed. "You'll come crawling back, you'll see. B

't," I

ng the landlord out of his way. I watched him go, then quietly closed my door and locke

e. They knew where I was. I had to

iced. It was a frustrating setback. I had just foun

software. The encounter with my father had lit a new fire under me. It wasn't just about revenge anymore

t. I had the check in my pocket and a half-finished application

rs and people with nowhere else to go. It was noisy and smelled like stale coffe

heck to find another cheap room, to survive

n a platform to launch it. The check wasn't enough to rent an office or hire

e software failed, I w

een. It was clean, efficient.

browser and started searching for web hosting services. The time

in front of my old university, talking about a recent charitable donation. And standing next to the university president, sm

hed her away, thinking she was just a kind-hearted volunteer. But she w

en incredibl

er of my laptop screen. It was an email.

ed a beat. I c

now what your family did. I have friends in the admissions office. I heard the whisper

from

ope, shame, and a deep, aching loneliness. I had been so determ

cept her help. Not yet. This first victory had to

etails, my fingers flying across the keyboard. I was about to click t

in. They were scanning the room, their eyes cold

r had se