Fiona took Nona inside and helped her settle in front of the TV. Looking over the back of the sofa, she saw her mother in the kitchen, busily tinkering with the oven. Fiona walked over, leaning against the counter.
"Mom? Is something wrong?"
"No, no... it's just the light. It won't turn on," her mother murmured, peering into the appliance. Fiona leaned in, checked the panel, and clicked a small switch. The light flickered on instantly. Her mother looked embarrassed for a moment, then offered a sheepish smile.
"By the way, what are you making?" Fiona asked.
"I'm making your gramps' favorites," her mother replied. Fiona watched her, a surge of affection hitting her chest. Her mother had worked so hard to keep this family together, never once thinking of leaving this town. She loved this house and every memory within its walls.
"Mom..." Fiona started, her voice turning serious. "I think I want to join medical school."
Her mother froze, her face becoming unreadable—almost emotionless. "Are you sure, Fiona? You've wanted to go to art school since you were a little girl."
"Things change, Mom. Choices change with time. Besides, I'm not that sixteen-year-old kid my dad used to spoil anymore," Fiona said, her gaze steady. "Ever since he left, I've changed. I have to take on responsibilities now. I want to give this family a better future."
Her mother's expression softened into a smile, though Fiona could see the glint of tears in her eyes—a mixture of pride and a quiet sadness for the dream her daughter was putting aside. Fiona didn't let her speak; she just stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
The oven beeped, breaking the moment. Fiona helped take out the tray of warm cookies and began to serve them.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Gramps suddenly barked from the living room, his face twisted in frustration as he stared at his phone.
"What happened, Gramps?" Fiona asked, walking over with a plate.
"Look at this," he muttered, pointing at the screen.
THE HEADLINE: "EXCLUSIVE: Leaked Audio Reveals Thorne CEO Mocked Injured Workers While Funneling 'Safety Fund' Millions into Private Offshore Accounts."
"These Thornes are crazy," Gramps sighed. "How can someone be so selfish?"
Fiona had heard the name many times before, though she had never cared much for economics or politics. But what she did know was that she hated these massive corporations. She hated how they were merciless, hoarding dirty money while a struggling woman could barely make it through the month.
"Gramps, put the phone down," Fiona said firmly. "Don't read about those jerks. They might have half the world's money, but they'll never have grandparents to enjoy hot cookies with."
They laughed together, the warmth of the kitchen pushing back the cold news on the screen. But deep down, a new seed of resentment had taken root. Fiona hated the name Thorne—and she hadn't even met the man behind it yet.