OFF LIMIT{Enemies on campus off limit to each other}

Chapter 9; Anonymous Donor

*CARTER INDUSTRIES - 8PM*

*Max*

I left the library immediately Mera left

I had just one thing to do, talk to my dad.

The Carter Industries building at night looked like a glass knife cutting into Manhattan.

I hated coming here.

Every floor screamed _legacy_. _Expectations_. _Don’t mess up_.

But Mira had 7 days left.

And I was out of options.

“Mr. Carter will see you now,” the assistant said.

Dad’s office was on the 63rd floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows. City below us like ants.

He didn’t look up when I walked in.

Just kept signing papers.

“You put a hold on the Alvarez scholarship,” I said. No greeting.

Dad finally looked at me.

“Ah. So you heard.”

“Why?”

He leaned back. “Because scholarships like that are PR risks.

We fund ‘promising’ students. Not… liabilities.”

“Liabilities?” My jaw tightened. “She’s top of our class. She works 30 hours a week and still outscores me.”

“She’s poor, Max. And poor people make poor decisions.

One bad semester, one missed payment, and Carter Industries gets dragged into the news.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s business,” he cut me off. “When you think about people too much, you lose connections. And connections are what keep this company alive.”

I stared at him.

This was the man who taught me how to win.

This was the man who taught me feelings were a weakness.

“Reinstate it,” I said.

“No.”

“Then I’m pulling my name from the winter gala. And the donor dinner. And I’m not speaking at Crestwood next month.”

Dad laughed. One short, cold sound.

“You’d tank your own reputation over a girl?”

“I’d tank it over doing the right thing. For once.”

The silence after that was brutal.

He picked up his pen again.

“Get out of my office, Max.”

I turned to leave. At the door I stopped.

“For what it’s worth… I’m not you.”

---

*10:30 PM. My Penthouse.*

I was still fuming when Noah let himself in.

He had a controller in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other.

“Dude, you look like you fought a CEO and lost,” he said, dropping onto the couch.

“Wanna play? Lose a few rounds of FIFA and feel better?”

I didn’t answer. I just went to the window.

New York stretched out, same as always. Cold. Distant.

Noah followed me.

“What did your dad say?”

“That poor people are a liability.”

Noah swore. “Asshole.”

“Yeah.” I laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

“Mira has 7 days, No. Seven.”

Noah was quiet for a second.

"Why don't you just pay for her?" he asked.

The thought had already crossed my mind.

"It was the first thing I thought of," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. "But there's no way she'd accept it."

Noah frowned.

"Then don't tell her it's from you."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"Make it anonymous," he said with a shrug. "Set up a scholarship. Cover the balance. Let her think it came from some donor who believes in her."

I stared at him.

It sounded simple.

Too simple.

"You really think she'd believe that?"

"If the money shows up and nobody takes credit for it?" Noah smirked. "She won't have much choice."

I turned back to the window, Manhattan glowing beneath the night sky.

Anonymous.

Maybe that was the only way.

Maybe I could save her...

Without destroying the little pride she had left.

For the first time all day, an idea that wasn't impossible settled into my mind.

Maybe I still had a move left.

*11:47 PM*

Noah was already on my laptop.

Three tabs open. Two legal pads. Takeout getting cold.

“You can’t just wire her $28,000,” he said without looking up.

“Accounting will flag it. My dad will find out. The school will ask questions.”

“So what’s the play?” I asked.

He spun the laptop toward me.

“‘The Bennett Promise Fund’. Sounds legit. Sounds like some rich alum who graduated Crestwood in ‘92 and made it big.”

I stared at the name.

Bennett.

Her last name.

“That’s not subtle,” I muttered.

“It’s perfect,” Noah grinned. “Anonymous donor. ‘In recognition of academic excellence and perseverance.’

We route it through the alumni office. They disburse it directly to her tuition. She never sees a Carter on it.”

I ran a hand through my hair.

“It’s lying.”

“It’s protecting her,” Noah shot back. “You think she wants to walk around Crestwood knowing you bought her semester?”

I didn’t answer.

Because he was right.

And because the idea of her thinking someone else believed in her...

That hurt more than I expected.

“Do it,” I said.

Noah’s fingers were already flying.

“Should hit the school’s account by morning. With 6 days to spare.”

For the first time in 24 hours, I could breathe.

---

*8:00 AM. Crestwood Administration.*

I wasn’t there.

I told myself I wasn’t watching.

But I was parked across the street when Mira walked in.

Same backpack. Same tired eyes. Same fire.

Mr. Victor’s assistant came out 20 minutes later.

Chasing after her down the steps.

“Ms. Bennett!! Ms. Bennett!!”

Mira stopped. Turned.

I couldn’t hear what was said.

But I saw her face change.

Confusion.

Then disbelief.

Then... relief so sharp it looked like pain.

She pressed a hand to her mouth.

Nodded once.

And walked away fast, like if she stopped moving she’d fall apart.

The hold was lifted.

‘The Bennett Promise Fund’ had paid her balance. In full.

Anonymous.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Noah texted me:

*Noah:* _We did it, you i***t. You actually did something good._

I didn’t reply.

Because across the street, Mira was looking up.

Right at my car.

She couldn't see me through the tinted windows.

But she was staring at my car anyway.

Not because she recognized it.

Not because she knew I was inside.

It was like...

She was searching for someone.

Someone she believed had just changed her life.

She took one slow step toward the curb.

Then another.

My hand tightened around the steering wheel.

"Max..." Noah's voice came through the speaker. "Drive."

I didn't move.

Mera's eyes swept over every car parked along the street, stopping on mine for a fraction of a second.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Did she know?

No.

She couldn't.

The donation had been anonymous. Every document had been scrubbed. My name wasn't anywhere near it.

So why was she still looking?

She wrapped her arms around herself.

From this distance, I couldn't hear her.

But I saw her lips move.

A whisper.

"Thank you..."

Then she looked around again.

Not with curiosity.

With fear.

The kind of fear that comes when a stranger knows everything about your life.

She took another step back.

Her shoulders stiffened.

Her eyes darted across the street, scanning every face.

As if she suddenly realized...

Someone had been watching her.

My stomach dropped.

She wasn't looking for her benefactor.

She was looking for the person who knew she was drowning before she ever asked for help.

"Max," Noah said again, his voice sharper this time. "Leave. Now."

I started the engine.

The black sedan rolled away from the curb.

In the side mirror, I caught one last glimpse of Mera.

She was still standing there.

Still watching.

And for the first time since I met her...

She looked afraid of someone she couldn't see.