Surviving My Father’s KPIs

After selling my blood just to stay alive, something in me changed for good.

I stopped sending my father those desperate messages. I still turned in the weekly reports, but they were nothing but copy-pasted filler, empty words that said nothing.

I started taking on every job I could find.

Picking up packages for people, bussing trays in the dining hall, tutoring on weekends, even posing as a paid model for art students.

If it made money and wasn't illegal, I did it.

One afternoon, right after I got back from a tutoring session, I saw my father standing outside my dorm building.

The moment he spotted me, he raised his voice. "Walter!"

My chest tightened.

"I hear you've been very busy lately." He walked up to me.

"Running side gigs unrelated to your primary responsibilities. Did you think the contract was just for show? If your Aunt Cecelia hadn't told me, I wouldn't even know you had the nerve to take on private work behind my back!"

My aunt, Cecelia Baker, lived nearby, so it made sense she knew.

People around us had already started to look over.

"I need money to live," I said quietly, fists clenched.

"Need money? What about your base salary?"

"You suspended it."

He let out a cold laugh, his voice rising sharply.

"I suspended it because your performance didn't meet standards. You made mistakes, showed no remorse, and now you're secretly generating secondary income and setting up a private fund? This is a serious violation."

More people stopped to watch. My face burned. I wanted to disappear into the ground.

"Dad, can we talk about this somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else? Why? What's there to hide? I'm going to audit your personal account right now."

He yanked my backpack off my shoulder and dumped everything onto the ground in front of everyone.

My books, notes, and a pen fell out, along with the 400 dollars I had just earned from tutoring, along with the debit card that held every dollar I had bled for.

He picked up the card and sneered.

"Just as I thought. Walter, you've got some nerve."

"Give it back!" My eyes burned red.

That was my lifeline.

He stepped back, gripping the card and the cash tightly.

"According to company policy, all unauthorized income will be confiscated. This card will also be frozen until you fully recognize your mistake."

After he finished lecturing me, he walked off with every dollar I had.

I crouched there, picking my things up one by one, tears falling like they wouldn't stop.

Now, the clause in that contract about a ten-thousand-dollar bonus for winning a national merit scholarship had become my only way to survive.