The name 'Cameron Reed' felt like a cheap suit...ill-fitting and borrowed. As he stood before the mirror, smoothing down the simple, slightly worn button-down shirt he'd chosen, the man inside the eighteen-year-old's body took inventory. The timeline had snapped into brutal focus. He was on the precipice of the path that had led to his ruin: university selection. Today was the day he'd originally chosen Astor University, a prestigious, expensive school his adoptive father, Richard Reed, had pushed for. It was there, in his second year, he'd meet Lucas Thorne at a business fraternity mixer.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
The knock at his door had been a starting pistol. The walk downstairs was a journey through a museum of his own past suffering. Every piece of cold, modern art, every gleaming surface, echoed with silent insults and dismissals. He entered the sun-drenched breakfast room, where the Reeds were already positioned like pieces on a chessboard.
Richard Reed sat at the head of the table, peering at a financial tablet, his silvering hair impeccably styled. Victoria Reed sipped her espresso, her gaze critically sweeping over Cameron's arrival. And there she was, Chloe Reed, his adoptive sister. At twenty, she was the picture of pampered ambition, scrolling through her phone, likely looking at images of Anastasia "Anna" Sterling, her idol. The sight of her sent a cold, visceral shock through him. His mind superimposed the image of her face, contorted in panic and triumph as he fell.
"You're late," Richard stated without looking up. "Sit. We need to discuss Astor. I've finalized the recommendation from Senator Gable. Your mother has arranged a suitable dormitory."
Cameron slid into his usual seat, the one farthest from everyone, and kept his eyes on his empty plate. The old Cameron would have muttered thanks, his shoulders hunched. The new one calculated. He had to reject Astor, but a direct refusal would be a declaration of war he wasn't equipped to fight yet. He needed a deflection, not a confrontation.
"Thank you," he said, his voice quiet but clear. He reached for the toast, forcing his hands not to shake. "I've been looking at the course structures."
Chloe snorted, not looking up from her phone. "As if you have a choice. Daddy's pulling strings for a reason. Don't embarrass him by failing out."
She was always the spear, Cameron thought, while our parents were the archers. He ignored her, focusing on Richard. "Astor's business program is top-tier, of course. But I've been reviewing the data on graduate outcomes and debt-to-income ratios." He used the dry, analytical language Richard respected. "For someone without a… pre-established network within the school's core alumni, the ROI is surprisingly low compared to some state flagship universities with stronger co-op programs."
Richard finally looked up, a flicker of surprise in his cold eyes. Cameron never offered opinions, especially backed by something resembling research. "ROI? What sentimental nonsense is that? You go to Astor for the name, for the connections. The degree is a formality. You'll make connections you can't make elsewhere."
Connections like the one where you sell your son, Cameron's mind screamed, but his face remained placid. "I understand. It's just… I've also been considering Crestview University."
A beat of silence. Crestview was an excellent school, but it was several tiers below Astor in the social-climbing hierarchy the Reeds worshipped. It was, however, in a different city, three hours away, and had a renowned, merit-based scholarship program for computer science.
Victoria set her cup down with a sharp click. "Crestview? Don't be absurd, Cameron. That's a school for strivers on scholarships, not for people like us."
People like you, he corrected silently. I was never one of you.
"Their Advanced Computational Analytics program has a direct pipeline to the Blackwood Group's research division," Cameron said, the name leaving his lips carefully. He'd remembered it from financial news he'd consumed in his past life. Aaron Blackwood's empire. It was a gamble, invoking that name. "A placement there would be a significant connection. Arguably more substantive than the generalized Astor alumni network."
Richard's eyebrow twitched. The name 'Blackwood' was a powerful totem in his world. A connection there was worth a hundred Senator Gables. "Blackwood? How do you know about their recruitment?"
"It was in a professional journal," Cameron lied smoothly. "The article highlighted Crestview's partnership. It's selective, but if I could secure a merit scholarship, it would minimize the financial outlay and maximize a targeted outcome." He was packaging his desire for freedom and distance as a cold, strategic business proposal.
Richard studied him, a predator assessing if a formerly docile prey had grown a spine. "You think you can secure a full merit scholarship? Your grades are adequate, not exceptional."
Because I was too busy surviving this house to excel, Cameron thought. "My final semester grades will be exceptional," he stated, a quiet vow. "And I've already drafted my application essays for the Crestview STEM scholarship. I can have them for your review." Offering review was a masterstroke, it feigned deference while committing him to the path.
"Let me see the data on this Blackwood pipeline," Richard finally said, turning back to his tablet. It wasn't a yes, but it was a crack in the door. A temporary suspension of the Astor decree.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Boring. Do what you want. Just don't come crawling back when you're drowning in loans." Her disinterest was his victory.
Breakfast continued in its usual stifling silence, but for Cameron, the air was different. He had moved his first piece on the board. The victory was microscopic, but it was real.