“If she doesn’t sign, she has nothing,” my father said, his voice flat and dangerous. “She won’t even have a place to sleep tomorrow night.”

He looked at me, a cold smile touching the corners of his mouth.

“And then there is Ellison University,” my father added.

A cold knot tightened in my stomach.

“What about Ellison?” I asked.

“The second semester tuition installment is due tomorrow at noon,” my father said. “You don’t have a scholarship for the graduate housing surcharge.”

“I have the money in my savings,” I said, my voice dropping. “I saved every penny from the clinic.”

“And that account is frozen,” my father said. “If the university doesn’t receive the wire transfer by noon, they cancel your registration.”

He put his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“They are very strict about the deadline this term,” he said. “Especially for the clinical psychology program.”

“You did this on purpose,” I said, the realization settling over me like ice. “You timed this.”

“I am simply managing a crisis,” my father said. “You chose to create this obstacle by bringing Arthur into our home.”