Noah
My father caught me in the hallway right after the board meeting ended, his hand landing on my shoulder in a way that felt more like a warning than a friendly gesture.
"Come by my office before you leave," he said. "There's someone I want you to meet."
I didn't ask who. With my father, it was rarely worth the effort of asking questions he had no intention of fully answering until he was ready. I finished up a few emails at my desk, tried and failed to shake the lingering unease from the board meeting, and eventually made my way toward his corner office on the top floor.
The door was already open when I arrived, and I heard her voice before I saw her, smooth and confident, the kind of voice built for boardrooms and charity galas alike.
"Nathaniel." My father's tone shifted the mom
