Page 36 of The One Who Changed Everything

"Enough, Evan," my father warned, his indifference slipping just enough to reveal the iron will beneath.

I studied him for a moment—the man who taught me to tie a tie, to ride a bike, and then later, how to hide any vulnerability behind a veneer of confidence. But I wasn’t that little boy anymore, running through these halls, seeking his approval. I was a man with calloused hands and a heart that'd been through the wringer. And I'd stopped letting him steer my course fourteen years ago when Mason died.

"Evan, you're too close to this situation. You can't see—"

"No, Dad," I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for debate. "I see perfectly clearly. You've always had this...this script for how my life should go. But I stopped following it a long time ago. Whatever foolish hopes you had for me to leave the fire department behind and take up the family business? That’s never happening." The words felt like boulders rolling off my tongue, heavy but freeing.

He let out a derisive chuckle, the sound echoing off the high ceilings adorned with ornate crown molding—the gilded cage of my upbringing. "It’s time to move past this little teenage rebellion. Grow up, Evan."

"Rebellion?" I repeated, a mirthless laugh escaping me. "I'm no teenager, Dad. I'm a grown man, apparently a father myself. This isn't about rebelling; it's about living my life, making my choices. And I won't apologize for that."

"Choices have consequences," he said again, eyes narrowing slightly. "And I've always been here to mitigate them for you."

"You’ve been mitigating them," I echoed, feeling the absurdity of the word in this context. "We're talking aboutmy daughter. I already know the weight of my decisions. I carrythem every day, on every call. And now, I carry them in every moment I spend with Samantha and Sophia. My choices are mine to bear, not yours to manage."

“You’re my son, and I willnotlet you stain the Mercer name!”

A scornful laugh fell from my lips. “We’re. Done," I said, feeling each word vibrate through the air, a solemn drumbeat to mark the end of an era. “As far as I am concerned, I am no longer your son. You stay away from me and my family.”

I turned on my heel and marched out of the office, only slightly aware that my mother followed me.

“Evan. Evan, sweetheart,” she pleaded as she chased me down the hallway.

My heart was racing, my muscles stiff from clenching my jaw and fists. When we reached the foyer, I turned and my mother almost ran into me.

“Did you know?” I stared at her, studying every muted emotion on her overly-botoxed face.

Her gaze softened slightly, and she moved closer, placing her hand on my arm—a touch that used to comfort me as a boy. "I didn’t know, I swear,” she said gently. "Whatever your father has done, I had no part in it. And... I would very much like to meet your Sophia. My… granddaughter? Please believe me,” she begged.

The sincerity in her voice tugged at something deep within me, and I found myself recalling countless childhood moments when she'd been the buffer between Dad's stern discipline and my own stubborn streak.

"Mom, I... I believe you." The words came out more tenderly than I expected. "And Sophia—she's amazing. You'd love her. She’s smart and sassy and has this ability to just... light up a room, even though she's had her share of challenges."

My mother's face brightened at the description. "She sounds like a remarkable young lady."

"Yeah, she is." I felt a smile breaking through despite the emotional whirlwind. "I can't promise anything right now, but I'll think about it."

"Thank you, Evan," she said, her voice carrying years of warmth and a hint of hope that hadn't been there a moment ago.

And with that, I turned my back on the imposing silhouette of the Mercer family home, feeling the last chains of expectation fall away. With a final glance at the Chicago skyline, I started the engine of my well-worn truck. It stood out like a sore thumb amidst the luxury cars of the family driveway. It felt good to leave in something that was unmistakably mine, a symbol of the hard-earned life I'd built. The road stretched out before me, leading back to Minden, back to Sophia. And Samantha.

I’d spent weeks—months, really—fighting against the resentment, the betrayal of what Sam had kept from me. And yet, somewhere between late-night tutoring sessions with Sophia, stolen glances across the library, and the cautious, guarded conversations we’d had, something had shifted.

I didn’t just see her as the girl who disappeared. Or the woman who kept my daughter from me.

I saw the mother who had raised Sophia into the brilliant, thoughtful kid she was. The woman who had built a life for them from nothing. Who had protected our daughter, even when she had no one protecting her.

Samantha wasn’t my enemy. And that realization felt more dangerous than anything else.

Because if I let go of my anger, if I let myself truly see her for who she was now, then I’d have to admit the truth.

That I still wanted her. Not just because of Sophia. Not just because of the history we shared.

But because she was Samantha. And for reasons I couldn’t fully explain, I had never really stopped wanting her.

The thought made my grip tighten on the wheel.

I needed to be here for Sophia. That was it.

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