Chapter 153 Chapter 153

Chapter 153 Chapter 153
Noah's POV

I knew before I answered the phone. Not because somebody warned me. Because my father never called unless he wanted something. The screen lit up while I was finishing treatment at the training facility. Richard Harris. The name stayed there for a few seconds. Like it already expected an answer.

Sean looked over from the next treatment table. "Are you going to get that?"

I kept staring at the screen. "Eventually."

He looked at the caller ID. Then immediately pretended he hadn't. Smart man. I answered. "Hello."

My father's voice came through calm as always. "Noah." Not hello. Not how are you. Just my name. "I would like to see you."

I leaned back in the chair while the athletic trainer finished wrapping my shoulder. "About what?"

"A conversation."

I almost laughed. Everything with Richard Harris was a conversation. None of them felt like one. "When?"

"Now."

The trainer taped the last strip over my shoulder. Gave me a sympathetic look. Apparently my facial expressions were less subtle than I believed. I thanked him quietly before standing. "I've got practice."

"You've finished practice."

He already knew my schedule. Of course he did. I closed my locker. Thought for a second. Then answered. "I'll be there." He disconnected first as always.



The Harris Corporate Tower looked exactly the same. Everything about the building communicated certainty. It used to intimidate me. Years ago I would've straightened my shoulders before walking inside. Practiced answers. Prepared arguments. Wondered which version of myself would disappoint him least. Today, I just pressed the elevator button. The receptionist smiled politely. "Mr. Harris is expecting you."

"I'm sure he is."

The elevator climbed quietly. Floor after floor. Each number lighting up. Funny. It used to feel like I was being called to the principal's office. Today it felt like visiting a museum. Familiar. But no longer home. The doors opened. His assistant stood immediately. "He's waiting."

I nodded and walked towards the office. The door stood open. Dad looked up from his desk. He didn't smile. Neither did I. "You came."

I stepped inside. "You asked."

He gestured towards the chair opposite him. I remained standing. His eyes noticed immediately. Everything about him noticed. "Is there a reason you're standing?"

I shrugged. "I'm comfortable."

He leaned back in his chair. Hands folded neatly together. Exactly the posture he'd used in almost every important conversation of my life. Only now...I wasn't eighteen anymore. The office looked enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. Bookshelves. Awards. Photographs with executives. Politicians. Athletes. Success framed on every wall. When I was younger, I'd believed those photographs proved something. Now they mostly looked lonely.

Dad studied me. "Emily declined." There it was.

I felt something cold settle in my chest. Not surprise. Confirmation. I looked at him. "She told me."

His eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly. "So you discussed it."

I almost smiled. "We discuss everything."

Something flickered across his face. Gone almost immediately. He stood up and walked slowly towards the window. Hands behind his back. "You know what I offered."

"I do."

"A remarkable opportunity."

"It was."

He nodded once. Then turned towards me. "And she refused."

I looked at him. "No. She chose." That landed.

His jaw tightened slightly. Small enough that most people would've missed it. I didn't. He walked back towards the desk. "Noah."

His voice remained calm. "Do you understand how many people spend entire careers hoping for introductions like that?"

"I do."

"And she walked away."

"She did."

He stared at me, waiting. Probably expecting frustration. Disappointment. Regret. Instead I quietly asked, "Did you think she would say yes?"

He answered immediately. "I thought she would be practical."

I nodded slowly. "I think she was."

His eyes narrowed. The office fell silent again. Outside the windows, traffic crawled through the city below. People moved in every direction. Entire lives happening beneath us. Dad finally spoke. "I've spent decades building influence. Relationships. Opportunities." He looked directly at me. "I offered to share that."

I nodded once. "I know."

His voice sharpened slightly. "And she refused because of you."

"No."

I shook my head. "Because of herself."

He frowned. He looked genuinely confused. "I gave her a chance to accelerate everything she's worked for."

"And asked her to disappear."

"It would've been temporary."

I looked at him for a long moment. "You still don't hear it."

His expression remained unreadable. "What exactly am I supposed to hear?"

I took a slow breath. Then answered honestly. "You keep calling people temporary. Temporary distance. Temporary sacrifice." I looked around the office. Then back at him. "As if time somehow changes what you're asking."

Dad folded his arms. "And what am I asking?"

I held his gaze. "You asked her to become smaller." The words stayed between us. He didn't interrupt. So I continued. "Not forever. Just until it was convenient."

I smiled sadly. "You've been asking people to do that your whole life."

His jaw tightened again. "I've asked people to make intelligent decisions."

I shook my head. "No."

"You've asked them to make emotionally inexpensive ones."

For the first time, Dad looked almost offended. Not angry. Wounded. Like I had misunderstood him completely. Or perhaps...Like I had understood him too well. He walked around the desk slowly. Stopped only a few feet away. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed." His voice remained controlled. But there was something underneath it now. Fatigue. "I built everything our family has."

"I know."

"I gave you opportunities most people never receive."

"I know."

"I protected your future."

"I know."

His eyes searched mine. Waiting for something. Gratitude. Agreement. Recognition. Instead... I quietly said, "You gave me success."

He froze. The room became impossibly still. I took one slow breath. And for the first time in my life...I realized I wasn't speaking to impress him anymore. I was simply telling the truth. Dad didn't speak again immediately.

The silence stretched between us, heavy enough that I could almost hear the quiet hum of the building around us. Somewhere beyond the office walls, phones rang, elevator doors opened and closed, and people continued building careers that probably felt just as important as this conversation. Neither of us moved. My father walked back toward the window, his reflection blending with the city behind the glass. Thousands of lights had already begun flickering on below us as evening settled over downtown.

"You know..." he said at last, his voice quieter than before, "When I was your age, I thought success would solve everything." I looked at him but didn't interrupt. "My father believed weakness was expensive." He smiled faintly, though there wasn't any humor in it. "There wasn't room for failure in our house. Every mistake cost something." That caught my attention.

Richard Harris rarely spoke about his own childhood. He kept looking out across the skyline. "When I started my first company, I worked eighteen-hour days because I convinced myself I was protecting the family I hadn't even built yet." He let out a slow breath. "I missed birthdays before there were birthdays to miss." A dry laugh escaped him. "Ironic."

The office felt different suddenly. Not warmer. Just... less polished. For the first time, I wasn't standing in front of Richard Harris, the executive everyone feared. I was standing in front of a man who had spent decades convincing himself sacrifice and love were the same thing. "I thought if I could build enough..." he continued quietly, "Then nobody I cared about would ever struggle."

I swallowed. "I know."

His eyes met mine in the reflection of the glass. "No. You don't." He turned to face me fully. "When your mother left..." His voice faltered for the smallest fraction of a second. "I thought she would understand eventually. I thought she would realize why I worked so much. I kept waiting for gratitude."

The confession settled heavily between us. I remembered my mother packing boxes. Remembered arguments muffled through closed doors. Remembered sitting at the top of the staircase while two people who loved each other somehow stopped speaking the same language. This was all before that car accident. Dad looked exhausted. Not physically. Emotionally. Like he had been carrying an invisible weight for years and only now realized how heavy it had become. "I kept choosing what I believed was best for everyone, until I screwed up." He looked directly at me. "And every time..." His shoulders lowered slightly. "Someone I loved walked away because of me."

The words echoed inside the office. I understood something then that I hadn't before. My father hadn't been trying to create lonely people. He had simply mistaken achievement for protection. Control for care. Success for love. For a brief moment, I felt something unexpected. Not anger. Not forgiveness. Compassion. Because somewhere along the way, Richard Harris had become trapped inside the very life he built. He had won every negotiation except the ones that mattered. Every promotion. Every board seat. Every business deal. And somehow...He had still ended up standing alone in the biggest office I had ever seen. I took a slow breath before answering. "Dad..."

The word surprised both of us. He looked up immediately. "I don't think you meant to lose us."

"I really don't." His expression softened for the briefest second. "But good intentions don't undo lonely childhoods."

I shook my head gently. "They don't replace missed dinners. They don't teach sons how to become husbands." The room fell silent again. "I spent years trying to become someone you would finally be proud of." I held his gaze. "And somewhere along the way..." I smiled sadly. "I forgot to become someone I was proud of."

That was when I realized the conversation wasn't about winning. It wasn't about proving him wrong. It was about finally telling the truth, without expecting it to change him.