Chapter 4

FOUR

T he New York City skyline twinkled against the darkening sky as Tiffany trudged up the stairs to her fifth-floor walkup. Her feet ached from the long day of teaching and standing.

Fumbling with her keys, Tiffany pushed open the door to her cozy apartment. The familiar scent of old books and lavender candles enveloped her, a comforting balm after hours of a raucous school. She kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief, her toes curling into the soft, worn carpet.

"Home sweet home," she murmured, her gaze sweeping over the small but inviting space. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with history texts and well-loved novels. A small desk in the corner held stacks of papers waiting to be graded, while her beloved houseplant, Fernie, drooped slightly on the windowsill. The plant was dying and she could do nothing to fix it.

"Oh, Fernie," Tiffany chuckled, crossing to the plant and gently touching its leaves. "Did you miss me? Don't worry, I'll get you some water."

As she tended to her leafy companion, Tiffany's mind wandered back to the gala. The glitz and glamour, the endless small talk, and most importantly, her conversation with Gerri Wilder. Alien shifters. A whole new world. It sounded like something out of a sci-fi novel, not real life.

And yet...

Tiffany shook her head, trying to clear the fantastical thoughts. She needed a glass of wine and some time to process everything. Padding to the kitchen, she pulled out a bottle of her favorite red and poured herself a generous glass.

Taking a sip, she leaned against the counter, her free hand absently toying with the delicate chain around her neck. Her fingers found the ring that hung there – her grandmother's ring. A wave of melancholy washed over her as she remembered the woman who had always encouraged her to follow her dreams, no matter where they led.

"What would you think of all this, Grandma?" Tiffany whispered. "Alien planets and shifter kings? You'd probably tell me to pack my bags and go on an adventure."

The sudden, harsh buzz of her phone interrupted her musings. Tiffany glanced at the screen and groaned. Her father. Of course. He never could let a society event go by without critiquing her performance.

For a moment, she considered ignoring the call. But years of ingrained obedience won out, and she reluctantly answered.

"Hello, Father."

"Tiffany." Henry Whitlock's voice was clipped and businesslike, as always. "I trust you are well."

"Yes, I'm fine. Is there something?—"

"I'll be there in ten minutes. We need to talk."

The line went dead before Tiffany could protest. She stared at her phone in disbelief, a knot of dread forming in her stomach. Her father never came to her apartment. He considered it beneath him, a constant source of disappointment and embarrassment.

"Damn it," Tiffany muttered, downing the rest of her wine in one gulp. She glanced around her small living room, suddenly seeing it through her father's critical eyes. The secondhand furniture, the cramped kitchen, the lack of designer labels or expensive art. All the things that made it feel like home to her would only fuel Henry's disapproval.

True to his word, precisely ten minutes later, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. Tiffany took a deep breath, steeling herself before opening the door.

Henry Whitlock stood in the hallway, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than Tiffany's monthly rent. His salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly styled, and his steel-gray eyes – so similar to Tiffany's own – swept over her with thinly veiled disapproval.

"Father," Tiffany greeted, stepping aside to let him in. "This is... unexpected."

Henry strode into the apartment, his presence seeming to fill the small space. His gaze darted around, taking in every detail with a slight frown.

"Tiffany," he said, turning to face her. "We need to discuss your future."

Tiffany's heart sank. She knew that tone all too well. It was the same one he'd used when he told her that teaching was a waste of her potential, that she was embarrassing the family by living like a "common worker."

"My future is fine, Father," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm happy with my job, and?—"

"Happy?" Henry scoffed. "You call this happy? Living in this... this shoebox, surrounded by dusty old books and grading papers for ungrateful children?"

Anger flared in Tiffany's chest. "Those ‘ungrateful children' are my students, and I happen to love teaching them."

Henry waved a dismissive hand. "It's time to grow up, Tiffany. You're thirty years old, for God's sake. You should be married by now, starting a family, taking your place in the company."

"I don't want to work for the company," Tiffany insisted, her voice rising. "I've told you this a thousand times. I'm a teacher. It's what I love, it's what I'm good at."

"Good at?" Henry's laugh was harsh and mocking. "You're a Whitlock. You're meant for greater things than babysitting teenagers and living paycheck to paycheck."

Tiffany's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I make a difference in my students' lives. That means more to me than any amount of money or status."

"Don't be naive," Henry snapped. "You think you're making a difference? You're wasting your potential and embarrassing your family, all for what? So you can play at being independent?"

The words stung, hitting every insecurity Tiffany had ever harbored. "I'm not playing at anything. This is my life, my choice."

Henry's eyes narrowed. "Your choices reflect on this entire family, Tiffany. Do you have any idea how it looks when people ask what my daughter does, and I have to tell them she's a public school teacher?"

Tiffany couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "Oh, the horror. Quick, someone call the society pages. Henry Whitlock's daughter is educating the youth instead of day drinking at country clubs. How will the family ever recover?"

Her father's face turned an interesting shade of purple. "This is exactly the kind of disrespect I'm talking about!"

"No, this is the kind of sarcasm you get when you barge into someone's home and insult their life choices," Tiffany shot back. "If you wanted blind obedience, you should have gotten a golden retriever instead of a daughter."

"It's time to grow up and accept your responsibilities. I've arranged for you to start at the company next month. Junior executive position with room for quick advancement. You'll be able to afford a proper apartment and start building a life worthy of your name."

Tiffany stood, stunned into silence for a moment. The audacity, the sheer presumption of it all, left her reeling. When she finally found her voice, it came out in an outraged whisper. "You had no right to do that."

"I had every right," Henry countered. "I'm your father, and I know what's best for you. This little teaching phase has gone on long enough. It's time to take your place in the real world."

Something inside Tiffany snapped. Years of pent-up frustration and resentment came pouring out in a torrent of words. "The real world? You mean your world where nothing matters except money and status? Where success is measured by the size of your bank account and how many people you can look down on?"

Henry's face flushed with anger. "Watch your tone, young lady. I've given you everything?—"

"No," Tiffany cut him off, her voice shaking with emotion. "You've tried to control everything. My career, my life choices, even where I live. But you've never once asked me what I want, what makes me happy."

"Happiness doesn't pay the bills," Henry sneered. "You think your little teaching job is fulfilling? Wait until you see what real power feels like, what it's like to make decisions that affect thousands of lives."

Tiffany shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "The only lives I care about affecting are my students'. Every time I see one of them understand a difficult concept, or get excited about history, or come to me for advice – that's real power. That's real fulfillment."

For a moment, something flickered in Henry's eyes – a hint of uncertainty, perhaps even a glimmer of understanding. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold determination.

"Enough of this nonsense," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You will accept the position at the company. You will move to a more suitable apartment. And you will start acting like the Whitlock you are. Is that understood?"

Tiffany stared at her father, really seeing him for perhaps the first time. The man before her wasn't the loving parent she'd always hoped for, the one who would eventually understand and support her choices. He was a stranger, so blinded by his own ambitions and prejudices that he couldn't see the pain he was causing.

"No," she said quietly, a sense of calm settling over her. "No, it's not understood. I won't do it, Father. I won't give up my life or my passion to fit into your narrow view of success."

Henry's face contorted with rage. "You ungrateful little?—"

"I think you should leave now," Tiffany interrupted, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "We clearly have nothing more to say to each other."

For a long moment, father and daughter stared at each other, the air crackling with tension. Finally, Henry spoke, his voice cold and cutting. "If you persist in this foolishness, don't expect any support from me. No more family connections, no more financial safety net. You'll be on your own, Tiffany."

Tiffany lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "I already am."

Without another word, Henry turned and stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the small space, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

Tiffany stood frozen for several heartbeats, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, she collapsed onto her couch, burying her face in her hands as sobs racked her body.

She cried for the little girl who had always sought her father's approval, for the woman she'd become despite his constant criticism, and for the relationship that might never be mended. But beneath the pain and sorrow, a small spark of relief flickered to life. For the first time in her adult life, Tiffany was truly free from the weight of her father's expectations.

As her tears subsided, Tiffany's phone buzzed with a text notification. Wiping her eyes, she reached for the device, expecting another cutting message from her father. Instead, she saw a name that made her heart sink even further: Jake, her colleague from school.

Frowning, she opened the message:

"Hey Tiff, heard about the promotion. Just wanted to say I'm sorry. We all know you deserved it more than Karen. Politics, am I right? Drinks soon to commiserate?"

Tiffany stared at the screen, uncomprehending. Promotion? What promotion? With trembling fingers, she dialed Jake's number.

"Tiff! Hey, how are you holding up?" Jake's voice was filled with sympathy.

"Jake, what promotion are you talking about?" Tiffany asked, a sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Oh shit, you didn't know? I thought... crap, I'm sorry, Tiff. I figured they would have told you by now."

"Told me what?" Tiffany pressed, her grip on the phone tightening.

Jake sighed heavily. "Karen got the department head position. You know, the one you've been working toward for the past two years?"

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Tiffany sank back onto the couch, her mind reeling. "But... how? I have more experience, better evaluations. I've been leading the curriculum development team."

"Yeah, well," Jake's voice was bitter. "Turns out sleeping with the principal's son trumps actual qualifications. Everyone knows it's complete bullshit, Tiff. You were the clear choice."

Tiffany barely heard the rest of Jake's sympathetic words. A roaring filled her ears, drowning out everything except the overwhelming sense of betrayal and injustice. She mumbled something about needing time to process and ended the call, letting the phone slip from her numb fingers.

It was too much. The argument with her father, and now this. Everything she had worked for, all the late nights and extra hours, the passion she poured into her lessons and her students – none of it mattered in the face of office politics and favoritism.

For a long time, Tiffany sat in stunned silence, staring unseeing at the wall across from her. The tears had dried up, replaced by a hollow ache in her chest. Was this all there was? An endless cycle of disappointment and compromise?

Tiffany stared at her phone, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat. "Well, isn't that just the cherry on top of this crap sundae of a day?" she muttered to herself. "Maybe I should have taken up pole dancing instead of getting that master's degree. Apparently, it's a more effective career strategy."

She glanced at Fernie, her loyal plant companion. "What do you think, Fernie? Should I start practicing my moves on you? You'd make a great pole, all tall and... planty."

Her gaze drifted to the business card sitting on her coffee table. Geraldine Wilder, Matchmaker Extraordinaire. Tiffany picked it up, running her thumb over the embossed lettering. Gerri's words from the gala echoed in her mind:

"A whole new world to explore, filled with wonders you've never imagined. A chance to teach and learn in equal measure, to make a real difference in shaping the relationship between two worlds."

It had seemed so fantastical then, like a dream or a fairy tale. But now, sitting in her small apartment with the remnants of her carefully constructed life crumbling around her, that dream beckoned like a lifeline.

Before she could second-guess herself, Tiffany grabbed her phone and dialed Gerri's number. It rang once, twice, and then?—

"Tiffany, darling!" Gerri's warm voice filled the line. "I was hoping you'd call. Have you given any more thought to our little chat?"

Tiffany took a deep breath. "I have, actually. I... I think I'd like to take you up on that offer. If it's still open, that is."

There was a pause, and Tiffany could almost hear the smile in Gerri's voice when she replied. "Oh, my dear. It's always been open. I had a feeling you might be ready for a grand adventure."

A laugh bubbled up in Tiffany's throat, half hysterical and half relieved. "I think I am. I need to get away, Gerri. Far away. And Nova Aurora... well, it certainly fits the bill."

"That it does," Gerri chuckled. "All right then, let's get you sorted. First things first – what do you need to bring? Any loose ends to tie up here?"

Tiffany glanced around her apartment, her mind racing. "I... I'm not sure. What does one pack for an alien planet?"

Gerri's laugh was warm and reassuring. "Don't worry about that, dear. Nova Aurora has some of the most advanced technology in the galaxy. Most of what you'll need will be provided. Just pack a few personal items, things that are important to you. As for your apartment, I can arrange for it to be looked after while you're gone."

"Really?" Tiffany blinked, surprised by Gerri's efficiency. "That's... thank you. What about my job? My family?"

"Ah, yes," Gerri's voice turned serious. "You'll need to come up with a believable reason for your absence. Something that explains why you'll be unreachable for a while. Perhaps a teaching exchange program in a remote area? Use your imagination, dear. And remember, this is your chance for a fresh start. Don't let anyone hold you back."

Tiffany nodded, even though Gerri couldn't see her. "Okay. Okay, I can do that. When do we leave?"

"How does tomorrow evening sound? It'll give you time to pack and say any necessary good-byes. I'll send a car to pick you up."

Tomorrow. The word sent a thrill of excitement and terror through Tiffany. "That's... soon. But yes, I think that works. Oh! What about Sia? She wanted to come too, remember?"

"Already taken care of," Gerri assured her. "I spoke with Sia earlier. She's just as excited as you are. The car will pick her up after you."

Tiffany let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "You really do think of everything, don't you?"

"It's my job, dear," Gerri replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "Now, get some rest. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow. And Tiffany?"

"Yes?"

"I have a feeling this is the start of something wonderful for you. Trust your instincts."

As the call ended, Tiffany sat back, her head spinning with the suddenness of it all. In the span of a few hours, her entire life had been turned upside down. And yet, for the first time in years, she felt a surge of genuine excitement.