Chapter 3

A tall figure appeared in the doorway, soaked through.

"Iris!" Nolan's voice was rough against the thunder. He strode toward me, rainwater dripping from his hair. "Why aren't you home in this weather?"

"I..." I stood up, shocked that he'd actually shown up. "The rain was too heavy outside..."

He walked to the window and looked out, cursing under his breath. "The water's already knee-deep. Looks like we're stuck here for the night."

He came looking for me.

A few minutes later, he returned with some candles and blankets. "Found these in storage." He began lighting the candles, and the warm yellow glow immediately made the place feel less sinister.

We sat on the carpet, backs against the bookshelves. Thunder and lightning raged outside, but inside it was unexpectedly... comfortable.

"Robert will be worried," Nolan said suddenly, his voice much gentler than usual. "I can't let him lose you and your mother."

This was the first time I'd heard him mention the possibility of losing anything. The first time I'd heard him acknowledge that we had value to this family.

"Why did you come looking for me?" I asked.

He stared at the candle flame, silent for a long time. "I don't know."

More silence.

"When I was seven," he suddenly began, his voice soft, "my mother left."

I turned to look at him. In the candlelight, he looked younger than usual, and more... vulnerable.

"She said I was too much like my father... cold, didn't know how to love." His hands clenched into fists. "Maybe she was right."

My heart clenched. "You're not cold. You're just protecting yourself. I understand that feeling."

He looked at me, something I'd never seen before in his eyes—uncertainty, even fear.

"Everyone thinks I'm lucky," I continued. "My mom married Robert, we moved into the big house. But they don't know what it feels like to wake up every day feeling like an outsider. Always trying to prove I belong here, always being reminded that I don't."

"You're different, Iris." His voice was soft, almost drowned out by the rain. "You have warmth... I'm afraid I'll destroy it."

The space between us suddenly felt very small. His eyes flickered in the candlelight, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He slowly leaned closer...

Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the entire library.

Nolan immediately pulled back, his expression instantly turning wary. That vulnerable moment vanished as if it had never existed.

"The rain's letting up. We should go home." He stood up, his voice cold again.

I nodded, but my heart was still caught up in that kiss that almost happened.

The next morning, when I walked into the kitchen, Nolan was already sitting there drinking coffee. He was wearing a perfect suit, looking like nothing had happened last night.

"Last night..." I began tentatively, "thank you for sharing those things with me."

He didn't even look up. "Don't take it seriously."

I felt like I'd been punched. "What do you mean?"

He pulled an envelope from his inside pocket and pushed it toward me. "This is compensation for scaring you. Last night shouldn't have happened."

I opened the envelope. Inside was $3,000 in cash.

Three thousand dollars? That's what his heartfelt confession was worth? Less than the council meeting incident.

"So those things you said were all fake?" My voice was trembling.

"All of it." His eyes were cold as steel. "Forget it."

He stood up, grabbing his briefcase to leave.

"Nolan..."

"What?"

"Why? Why are you doing this...?"

"Because this is who I am." He said, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving me holding that damn money, feeling like a fool.

At eleven that night, my phone rang. It was the hospital.

"Are you Linda's daughter? She's been brought to the emergency room."

When I rushed to the hospital, I found Nolan was already there. He was sitting in the waiting area, clothes wrinkled, looking like he'd hurried over.

"How is she?" I asked, out of breath.

"Heart attack." He stood up. "The doctor says she needs immediate surgery."

The doctor appeared, expression serious. "Your mother needs emergency coronary bypass surgery. The surgery costs $100,000 and needs to be paid immediately."

"Use my card," Nolan told the doctor.

I stared at him in shock as he signed the payment authorization.

"Why...?" I asked.

He avoided my eyes. "This is family obligation fees. Robert would do this."

Mom's surgery lasted six hours. Throughout, Nolan stayed in the waiting area. He didn't speak, didn't leave, just sat quietly, occasionally getting me coffee.

When the doctor told us the surgery was successful, Nolan's hand lightly touched my shoulder for just a second, then moved away.

"She'll recover," he said.

"Thank you." I turned to face him. "Really, thank you."

"You're welcome." He checked his watch. "I need to go. Call me if you need anything."

I watched his tired figure disappear into the elevator.

His actions and words were always contradictory.

I replayed the last twenty-four hours in my mind: Nolan vulnerable and open in the candlelight, sharing his deepest wound.

Then the cold dismissal this morning, reducing our connection to a transaction.

Now this—sitting through six hours of surgery, paying a hundred thousand dollars without hesitation, yet still calling it "obligation fees."

'What kind of man pays for someone's mother's life-saving surgery and calls it obligation? What kind of man opens his heart one night and denies it ever happened the next morning?'

My chest ached with confusion and anger.

Each time I thought I glimpsed the real Nolan—the scared seven-year-old boy whose mother abandoned him—he'd slam the door shut and throw money at me like I was some kind of problem to be solved.

But maybe that was exactly what I was to him. A problem. A disruption to his carefully controlled world.