Chapter 2 - The Ambush in the Corridor
The symposium concluded under a cloud of breathless whispers and camera flashes from curious guests.
Noah and I walked through the backstage exit toward the quiet faculty gardens, desperate to escape the murmuring crowd.
Before we could reach the stone archway, heavy footsteps echoed rapidly along the polished granite hallway behind us.
"Claire! Wait! Don't run from me again!"
Vincent burst through the double doors, breathing heavily, accompanied by Sophia and a clearly agitated Ethan.
Noah turned around instantly, shifting his body so that he stood directly between Vincent and me, his broad shoulders squared in protective defiance.
"Step back," Noah ordered coldly.
Vincent stopped three feet away, his eyes locked onto Noah's face, cataloging every single line and feature with raw, agonizing grief.
"You don't understand, son," Vincent choked out, his throat bobbing frantically. "I'm Vincent Moretti. I am your father."
"You are a stranger who disrupted my mother's speech," Noah replied with biting detachment.
"Vincent, let's just leave!" Sophia hissed, grabbing Vincent’s sleeve with trembling fingers.
"This is ridiculous! She probably got pregnant by someone else after you divorced! She's trying to scam your estate for inheritance money now that Ethan is enrolled!"
Noah let out a short, humorless laugh that sounded so much like Vincent's younger self it made the older man flinch.
"Scam his estate?" Noah repeated, looking at Sophia with pure disdain.
"I have a full presidential academic scholarship that covers all four years of my tuition, housing, and research stipends, ma'am. I wouldn't take a single dollar from this man if it were the last penny on earth."
Ethan stepped forward, his eyes darting between Noah's face and his father's obsessive stare.
"Dad, what is this?" Ethan demanded, his voice cracking with hurt pride. "You promised tonight was about celebrating my admission into the business school! Why are you staring at some scholarship kid?!"
Vincent didn't even glance at Ethan.
"I sent you money, Claire," Vincent whispered, his voice cracking into jagged pieces as he looked at me past Noah's shoulder.
"Every single month for eighteen years! Ten thousand dollars on the first of every month to the trust account registered under your maiden name! Why did you make him live in poverty?!"
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I stared at him in utter shock.
Beside him, Sophia gasped, her fingers slipping from his arm as her eyes darted toward the exit in absolute, naked terror.
