After Seven Empty Chairs, I Took My Daughter and Left Chapter 32

After Seven Empty Chairs, I Took My Daughter and Left Chapter 32

Noah’s life didn’t end up much better than Sloane’s.

The Mercer family trust, the giant that had stood in Boston for nearly two hundred years, finally bared its fangs. The full-scale siege of Noah’s company began. Malicious short selling, pulling funding out from under him, cutting off every credit channel. Every move was precise and fatal. Noah’s investment firm, which had only just begun to make a name for itself in Boston finance, was as fragile as a house of cards under the crushing weight of a century-old money family.

The charity gala farce, combined with the fury of being betrayed by both Sloane and Zack, made Noah completely lose control. In despair, he executed several trades that seriously violated SEC compliance rules in an attempt to reverse the decline. It was no different from drinking poison to quench thirst.

His struggle earned him no room to turn things around.

When his lawyer informed him that filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection was the only choice left, Noah’s body, which had only recently been in the emergency room, finally couldn’t hold on. Clutching his chest in agony, he collapsed in the top-floor office that had once overlooked all of Boston Harbor, struck by sudden cardiac ischemia.

The wail of the 911 ambulance became his final dignity as the heir of the Whitaker family.

By the time he woke in the hospital ward, everything was settled. The group had entered bankruptcy liquidation. The Swiss bank accounts under his name, the Beacon Hill townhouse, the Aston Martin in his garage—all of it had been frozen and seized by the court.

At the same time, Sloane also met her end. Without Noah’s financial support, the already shaky Carver family business collapsed in an instant. And Zack, the thug who had played “hero” at the banquet, disappeared without a trace once he discovered she could no longer be squeezed for money.

With nothing left, Sloane went mad and tried to block Noah at the Whitaker Group building, only to be stopped outside by cold security guards like a joke.

With nowhere to go, Noah finally thought of Ava amid the moldy smell of a cheap motel. He thought of her bright smile at Columbia and everything she had done for their home. And he, like a dog driven by desire, had rushed forward the moment Sloane crooked her finger, destroying that decent, warm marriage with his own hands.

But he refused to admit it. He refused to admit that all of this had been caused by his damned narcissistic hero fantasy and his betrayal of his family. He needed an outlet. A scapegoat.

He blamed everything on Sloane.

Noah found Sloane in a shared apartment in Brooklyn that smelled of damp and cheap perfume. When Sloane saw him, a trace of hope flashed in her eyes, perhaps thinking he had come to relive old dreams. But when she saw only resentment and hatred in Noah’s eyes, that light went out.

“You destroyed me,” Noah said hoarsely, his voice like rusted iron.

Sloane, surviving on a few hundred dollars scammed from some man she had met on Tinder, sneered and crossed her arms.

“You’re a useless man who can’t survive a storm, and you came here to blame me? Noah, did I hold a gun to your head and force you to abandon your wife and daughter so you could be my lapdog?”

“Lapdog?” The veins at Noah’s temples bulged. “Weren’t you the one manipulating me the entire time, constantly sending ambiguous messages and making me think you needed me? If you hadn’t stirred things up, Ava and I never would have reached this point!”

Sloane laughed even harder. The sound was sharp and mean, like nails scraping glass.

“I reached out a hand and you rolled right over. How is that my fault? Noah, do you dare say you didn’t enjoy it? You enjoyed playing my savior. You enjoyed feeling needed and superior, because Ava was too capable and too perfect. She made you feel like a useless waste.”

Every word was like a knife, stabbing precisely into his most hypocritical pride.

“Did I kidnap you and make you miss Lily’s final adoption hearing to comfort me during a so-called ‘panic attack’?”

“Did I put a knife to your throat and force you to leave halfway through the social worker’s key home visit because of one call from me, abandoning Ava to handle the questioning alone?”

“You missed Lily’s first school concert because you were buying me that completely unsuitable dress. You made that stupid public donation at the charity gala to comfort me. Did I force you to do all of that?”

Sloane stepped closer and closer, her eyes full of contempt and mockery. One by one, she tore open the “sacrifices” Noah had once been so proud of, revealing the rotting selfishness inside.

“You didn’t love me, Noah. You loved the feeling of saving me. You took Ava’s patience and devotion for granted, and treated my tantrums and demands as proof that I needed protecting. You narcissist. You smashed that home to pieces with your own hands, and now you’re here blaming me?”

Noah stood frozen, speechless.

For the first time, he stood from the perspective of a complete outsider and listened as Sloane recounted, with the most vicious and truthful words, every single thing he had done to Ava and Lily.

Only then did he understand what a scumbag he had been.

He had wronged Ava. He had personally torn apart their sacred vows, failed a woman’s wholehearted love, and crushed a child’s last hope for the word “father.”

Everything had been his own narcissism.

He couldn’t blame anyone else.