“Miss Delgado, I need to apologize for any inconvenience,” Agent Thomas Brennan said, closing his folder. “We’re not here about fraud. We’re here because your twelve-million-dollar charitable foundation qualifies for an expedited review under our nonprofit recognition program.”
I set down the coffee I’d been offering him.
“The LSE Foundation,” he said. “You’re the founder and primary donor, correct?”
He pulled out another document. “We received an anonymous report alleging suspicious financial activity.
Our investigation revealed no irregularities. Quite the opposite. Your foundation’s compliance is exemplary.
We’re actually here to discuss potential federal matching funds for your scholarship programs.”
I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. Miranda had tried to destroy me and accidentally fast-tracked recognition for the charity I’d spent eight years building in secret.
“Agent Brennan,” I said, wiping my eyes, “would you like to stay for lunch? I have quite a story to tell you.”
I’d been a family disappointment since childhood. The Delgado family operated on a simple principle: visible achievement or irrelevance.
My father, Roberto Delgado, was a successful immigration attorney who measured worth in degrees, titles, and public recognition. My mother, Catherine, was a former model turned real estate agent who measured it in appearances, connections, and social standing. Miranda had followed their template perfectly.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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