Wildest Dreams - A Taylor Swift Adoption Fanfiction

Chapter 5: No Strings Attached

Author's note: Dialogue heavy, sorry, I'm in the zone haha

I push my empty plate away, steeling myself. "You guys do know that I will not stay forever, right?"

"We thought you might say that." Taylor doesn't look surprised, just pulls something from her pocket. A credit card and an iPhone land on the table between us. "That's why we made sure you'd have options."

I stare at the items like they might bite me. "What is this?"

"Financial security," Tree says bluntly. "No strings attached."

I snort. "Right. Because rich people just hand out unlimited credit cards to street rats they met yesterday."

"First of all," Taylor interrupts, "stop calling yourself that. Second, it's not unlimited." She pauses. "Well, technically it is, but-"

"What?" I choke.

Tree smirks. "What Swift means to say, in her characteristically awkward way, is that you've got access to enough funds to secure your future. College, housing, medical care-"

"I don't need your fucking charity," I snap, even as my fingers itch to grab the card.

"No, you're right." Tree leans forward, all business now. "You don't need our charity. But you do need options. Unless you'd prefer to go back to stealing watches?" She gestures to my wrist, where I'm still wearing the Rolex I stole last week.

I flush, yanking my sleeve down. "How did you..."

"Please," Tree rolls her eyes. "I've been handling PR for Taylor for years. You think I can't spot a stolen and probably fake Rolex?"

"It's real, actually," I mutter. "Guy was too busy hitting on his secretary to notice."

Taylor chokes on her coffee while Tree actually looks impressed.

"See?" Tree turns to Taylor. "Told you she's smart. Too smart to end up in juvie over some rich asshole's watch."

"Which is why," Taylor cuts in smoothly, "we want to make sure you have better options."

I eye the credit card suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"The catch," Taylor says softly, "is that you have to promise to use it. To take care of yourself. To give yourself a real chance."

"That's not a catch. That's..." I swallow hard. "That's insane. You're all insane."

"Probably," Tree agrees cheerfully. "But we're insane with resources and a really good legal team, so."

I pick up the card, examining it. My name is already on it. Mandy... Swift?

"Temporary," Taylor rushes to explain. "For legal reasons. We can change it."

"You're really serious about this." It's not a question.

"Dead serious," Tree confirms. "That card will cover anything you need. Rent, food, clothes that weren't stolen from a shopping mall..."

"Hey! Only some of them were stolen."

"Education," Tree continues, ignoring me, "medical care, therapy-"

"I don't need therapy."

Three identical looks of disbelief meet this statement.

"Okay, fine, maybe I need therapy," I admit. "But this is... it's too much. You can't just..."

"Can't just what?" Taylor challenges. "Can't help? Can't care? Can't try to make sure a fourteen-year-old kid has a shot at something better than running away in the middle of the night?"