“A training scholarship?”
Lydia stared at the letter.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Here,” I said, gesturing toward the office. “We help single mothers train for stable careers. Health care, technical jobs, skilled trades. Anything that gives families a chance to build something steady.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Why would you do this for me? I don’t deserve help from you.”
I folded my hands on the desk.
“I’m not doing it for you. It’s for the three babies who didn’t ask for the life they were born into.”
