Chapter 168

Noah

I didn’t remember how I got home. I didn’t remember the ride, or stumbling through the door, or collapsing into bed. All I remembered was the sound in my head — that small, broken sound that had torn out of me when I saw them. When I saw him. When everything I had been holding like a lifeline snapped.

I didn’t know how I fell asleep, and I didn’t know why I woke up. I didn’t want to. The morning felt wrong, unreal, like waking up after the world had already ended and being forced to continue anyway. My chest was heavy, tight, as if something had settled inside my ribs and refused to move.

It took effort just to breathe.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time, waiting for something to change, for something to make sense. Nothing did. The room was the same. The world outside was the same. But I wasn’t.

My eyes were raw, burning, swollen from crying. My throat ached like I had screamed for hours. Maybe I had. My hands shook when I pushed myself upright. I didn’t feel my body. I felt like I was drifting somewhere just outside of it — watching myself from a distance.

There was no point in staying in bed. There was no point in anything at all. My life was already over — yesterday had seen to that.

So I got dressed like it didn’t matter. Jeans. A shirt. The first jacket I reached. No thought. No energy to care how I looked. My reflection in the mirror didn’t look like me anyway. Eyes empty. Face drained. I looked like someone who had survived something they weren’t supposed to survive.

Maybe I hadn’t.

I was supposed to meet William this morning. We were going to arrange a date. A public announcement tonight. A smile on my face for the cameras. For the school. For the world. The engagement contract would finalize. My father would show up eventually and ruin what was left of my life. But at least — at least Aiden wouldn’t go down with me.

He could hate me. That was fine.

He could move on. That was fine.

He could be happy. Even that was fine.

I still loved him.

I would always love him.

And loving him meant letting him go before I dragged him under with me.

If I made it through the day, if I made it through the announcement, maybe I’d fall asleep tonight and just wouldn’t wake up. Maybe that would be easier. Quieter. Softer than all this hurting.

I walked to the door, numb, my keys heavy in my hand. The city looked washed out, gray, like it was mourning with me. I drove to the country club on autopilot, the road passing in vague shadows and muted light. I didn’t remember the turns. My hands moved. My body breathed. The world kept going.

William was waiting at a corner table outside, dressed in expensive casual clothes that made him look polished and effortless in a way that had always made me uneasy. He stood when he saw me, smiling as though everything was normal.

“Noah,” he said warmly. “Right on time. Sit.”

I did.

He studied me for a moment, his smile dimming. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. My voice barely held together.

“You don’t look fine.” His tone stayed light, but the edge was there—hidden steel. “We have a long day ahead. The press release about the football championship goes out this afternoon. The final announcement follows tonight. You’ll smile. You’ll stand beside Lexie. You’ll thank everyone. You’ll say all the right things.”

The rest was a blur. He began saying something about schedules, arrangements, which reporters would be present tonight, which photographs would circulate first, how the public narrative would frame me as a future star, seeing our collaboration and engagement as the most powerful union of the year. His voice was calm, steady, confident. Like everything was already won.

I answered in monosyllables.

“Fine.”

“Sure.”

“Whatever you want.”

At first, he didn’t react. He was used to obedience.

But after several minutes, he paused mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed just barely—not with concern, but calculation.

“What’s going on, Noah?” he asked. Not gently. Not kindly. Simply assessing. “Something is wrong.”

My hands shook under the table. I stared down at them. I couldn’t speak.

“Noah.” His voice sharpened by a fraction—enough to show the real William beneath the polish. “Look at me.”

I did.

And everything cracked. Of course, I offered him the one heartache I could share. “He’s here.”

William’s brow lifted. “Who?”

“My father.” The words scraped out raw. “He showed up last night. He wants money. He said he’ll come to the dinner tonight if I don’t give it to him.”

For a second, William was silent. Then something like relief flickered through William’s features—relief that it was this, not something that changed his plans. He reached across the table, laying his hand over mine, not to comfort but to claim. “Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

I blinked, confused. “You’re not… angry?”

“Angry? No.” He smiled again, smoother this time, reassuring in a way that felt wrong. “You did well to tell me. It’s good that you trust me, Noah. You’re family now. We handle family problems quietly.”

My stomach twisted. “He’ll cause a scene.”

“Let him.” William reached for his coffee, unbothered. “He’ll learn what happens when he threatens people under my protection. I’ll be ready for him.”

His certainty scared me more than my father ever had. I swallowed. The words felt like being tethered tighter.

He took a slow breath, resetting the tone back to business. “Now. About the game on Friday....”

Whatever he said after that, I didn’t hear. I just nodded, numb, here and there, as he expected me to.

He smiled again, pleased with my compliance. “Good. You’re doing well.”

And I was. For my mother. For my sister. For a man who didn’t love me—especially for him.

Not for myself. Because there was nothing left for me to fight for.

Not anymore.

The dining hall at the country club was warm and bright, glowing with soft amber light and laughter that didn’t belong to me. The polished silverware, the fresh-cut lilies, the servers moving like choreography—all of it felt like it was happening behind glass. Like I was watching someone else’s life through a window.

I wore a white button-down, sleeves rolled neatly, collar open just enough to look relaxed. My hair was brushed, my skin washed, my posture straight. I looked the part—the fiancé, the rising star, the golden boy.

On the inside, I was smoke.

William stood near me, speaking with board members and donors, shaking hands, smiling the kind of smile that proved he’d already won.

The engagement date had already been chosen—three months after the championship, early May. Spring sunlight, floral arrangements, white tablecloths, and photographers. At least Lexie seemed happy, even though she didn’t get to choose a thing either.

My throat felt tight just thinking about it.

When she eventually slipped up beside me, a flute of champagne in her hand, her expression was bright and genuinely sweet. She leaned her shoulder gently against mine.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice soft, sincere. “I know things have been… a lot. But it’s all going to be okay soon.”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

She smiled wider, the kind of smile people use when they really want something to be true. “My parents are already planning accommodations. Your mom and sister will be with us soon. They’ll be safe, Noah. Your father won’t come near.”

If she only knew he was already around.

If she knew anything at all that was going on in my life…

But she didn’t.

She kept speaking, hopeful, kind, untouched by the war inside my chest.

“We’re going to be a family,” she said softly. “It’ll be good. I promise.”

I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth.

If I did, I would break.

The room hummed with low conversation and the gentle clink of silverware. Someone laughed three tables over. A violinist played quietly near the terrace, warm and slow.

For a moment, everything was almost still.

Then it wasn’t.

A subtle shift moved through the room—nothing dramatic, just two of William’s men crossing quietly toward our table. They leaned in to him, speaking low. William’s expression tightened, almost imperceptibly.

He turned to me.

“Noah,” he murmured, voice steady. “Your father is here.”

And the floor dropped out from under me.