Page 23 of Billion Dollar Lesson

Of course, the corridors are deserted, and there’s just a handful of people strolling across the evening campus, but I don’t find my dangerously intoxicating blonde among them.

The drive to Back Bay is short and uneventful, and I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice our arrival until Alexander, my driver, rips me away from my musings.

„Long day?” he asks with a chuckle, when I cast him a confused look through the mirror.

„Yeah, you could say that,” I respond. „Good night, Alexander.”

„Good night, Sir.”

The ice-cold evening air bites into my skin when I get out of the car, and I push up the collar of my coat, cursing myself for leaving my scarf in my office. I clearly can’t think straight today, which is no surprise after what happened.

Just as I’m about to climb up the stairs to my brownstone townhouse, I notice a wailing sound coming from beneath the stairs. Startled, I pause for a moment, holding my breath, as I listen into the dark.

There it is again, a tiny little meow, and then another, and it’s coming from somewhere right beneath my feet. Frowning, I turn around and scan the darkness beneath my feet. A cat? None of my neighbors have one, as far as I know, and there are not many strays around this area.

Then I hear it again, a faint little meow, followed by the sight of a furry tail curling out from underneath the stairs.

I place my satchel on the stairs and go down on my knees to search the bushes that surround the stone steps that lead up to my home. There’s a little hollow space underneath the stairs, shielded by boxwood bushes, and when I reach out to pull the rigid branches aside, I’m met with a pair of golden eyes—and another meow, a very loud one this time.

„What the f—”

Before I can finish the sentence, a tiny little ball of fur comes jumping out of the hollow and right into my lap. I’m so startled that I lose my balance and fall back until my ass hits the cold and wet ground.

I curse under my breath, and the kitten joins in with another meow. It’s a tiny kitten, way too young to be out here all alone, with dark gray fur and the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen on a cat. But it’s not the same pair of golden eyes I saw before, and just as I realize that, another cat comes jumping out from underneath the stairs, meowing even louder than the kitten in my lap. It has the same color fur, but this one is a grownup—and the one whose eyes I must have seen before.

„Is that your baby?” I ask the cat, feeling like a moron. This is obviously the mother cat, albeit being a small cat herself. But it’s definitely a grownup, and its eyes are bright golden, while the kitten’s eyes are darker.

The kitten is still in my lap, and it cries hysterically when I carefully lower it to the ground, next to its nervous mother.

„What are you guys doing out here?” I ask, as if they could tell me.

There’s another meow coming from the space beneath the stairs, and when I get back on my knees and crawl behind the little bush, I realize that there are two more kittens, nestled close to each other in a cardboard box.

Some asshole must have left them here. Who would do such a thing? In this weather? They could freeze to death!

The mother cat hisses at me when I reach inside the hollow space to pull out the box and the two kittens inside. They look just like the other two, sporting the same gray fur and eye colors that vary between gold and green. And they’re trembling with fear.

What the hell do I do? They’ll die if I leave them out here.

The mother cat and the cheeky kitten who jumped at me, both meow in unison, their voices so loud and desperate that I have no other choice. I have to bring them inside.

Cautiously, I try to get a hold of the first kitten, and to my surprise, it doesn’t put up a fight when I lift it up and put it back to its siblings inside the box. The mother keeps meowing at me, when I get back up on my feet, carrying the box with her offspring in my hands.

„Don’t worry, they’ll be safe, you’ll be safe. Come,” I tell her, and when I start walking up the stairs, she follows me like an obedient puppy, with her tail up in the air.

I unlock the door, and bring the kittens inside, placing the box on the floor, before I hurry outside again to fetch my satchel as quickly as possible.

By the time I’m back inside and the door is closed behind me, there’s only one kitten left inside the box, while the mother cat is about to go up the stairs to the second floor and the other two kittens are nowhere to be seen.

„Hey,” I say helplessly, trying to get the mother cat’s attention. But the cat barely acknowledges me and starts running up the stairs. Is that where the two other kittens went as well? Or did they escape into the kitchen at the back of the house? Or down to the basement…

Torn between wanting to follow the cat upstairs, looking for the other two kittens in the kitchen, and guarding the one kitten who is still inside the box, I’m standing in the middle of the entry area, clueless and overwhelmed.

What the fuck do I do? I have no food or anything to take care of these cats, but could not possibly leave them outside in that icy weather.

Tuna! I still have a can of tuna in my kitchen cabinet, I’m sure. Maybe I can lure them out of hiding with that.

I pick up the box with the scared little kitten inside, and carry it over to the kitchen, where I leave it on the open kitchen island, hoping that it will stay inside the box. I rummage through my cabinets until I find the tuna, and when I open the can, the mother cat miraculously reappears right next to my feet. She lets out the loudest meow I’ve heard so far and gets up on her hind legs, her left front paw pressing against my leg while she waves at me with the other.

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