Chapter 6 NOAH

NOAH

Emma is dead.

Those three words felt like they blew a hole straight through my chest-leaving behind an icy emptiness.

I went back to the Atherton house for dinner. It wasn't part of the plan. I should have returned to my penthouse in Menlo Park-the place I used as a fortress to shut out the world, where not even my personal assistant was allowed inside.

But tonight, I needed someone nearby. Even if we sat under the same roof in silence. Because I couldn't bear another night alone, staring at white walls, thinking I should've told her sooner that I had feelings for her.

I fucking should have told her.

But I didn't.

I was terrified back then-terrified that the moment I admitted it, I'd lose control. And control was the only thing I was ever good at in this world.

The news about Emma hollowed me out completely. What I couldn't accept even more was that night-at the reunion, at the hospital-every time she walked in and out with that child in her arms, she-no, Ms. Evans-kept denying she was Emma. She looked at me with something close to disgust, as if I'd done something unforgivable to her.

Maybe I had.

I didn't know why she reacted so strongly. But I could feel it-I had become her trigger. Whether in the hospital hallway or that night she called a "company celebration," the way she looked at me was the way you look at an asshole.

I'm not that kind of person. At least, I hope I'm not.

So I didn't go back to the penthouse. That place was too empty-just like my heart right now.

I went back to the Atherton house-my parents' place. I rarely returned there, for various reasons. We had money, yes, but our family was still broken.

Morgan Holdings was a leading force in U.S. real estate and construction and was expanding into Europe. As the only legitimate son in the family, many assumed I would become CEO. But because I chose a different career path, Lucas became CEO, and Madison took the role of COO.

Lucas Morgan was my parents' adopted son. He was the child of my mother's best friend, who died tragically in a plane crash. At the time, my parents were unable to conceive, so they adopted Lucas. His original name was Lucas Rockefeller.

When my mother was thirty-three, she finally became pregnant and gave birth to my sister, Madison. She was already close to menopause when she had me and my twin brother, Elijah.

Yes-I had a twin brother.

Twenty years ago, Elijah and I were kidnapped. It was one of the worst moments of my life. I survived.

My brother didn't.

I saw my mother's eyes turn red. That was one of the reasons I preferred staying in my penthouse. I knew that every time she looked at me, she couldn't help but think of Elijah.

When I caught her wiping away tears, I knew I'd been right.

My mother was usually cheerful-except when it came to pressuring me into the blind dates she arranged. That was when she turned ruthless.

"Noah, why didn't you go meet Isabelle last Wednesday?" she asked.

"Mm." I muttered, not bothering to respond properly.

"What does that 'mm' mean?" she snapped, rubbing her temples.

"I already told you-Isabelle is a beautiful woman. She used to come over when you were a child. Her grandfather and your grandfather were best friends. Even if you don't like her, for your grandfather's sake you should meet her! And Noah-you're almost thirty! It's time to settle down!"

She went on and on.

I sighed and nodded. "Fine. I'll see her."

"Really? You're not lying to me?" she asked.

"Yes, Mom. I promise. Okay? Can I go upstairs now?" I said, hoping to end the interrogation.

She smiled brightly. "Of course, son. Go on."

I smiled back and headed for the study.

I was looking for a few books to take back to my penthouse when the hospital called with an emergency. I grabbed the books and my car keys and rushed out.

As I went downstairs, I overheard my family still talking about me.

"He's just like you," my mother whispered to my father. "Almost thirty and still single. He barely comes home-he spends all his time at the hospital."

"People his age are either engaged, married, or already have kids!" she added, clearly frustrated.

"Our son is just doing his duty as a doctor," my father said in my defense. "I don't see anything wrong with that."

I was surprised to hear him defend me. I knew how furious he'd been when I told him I wanted to be a doctor instead of taking over the family business.

I knew my mother meant well. But I couldn't start dating anyone right now-especially with the rumors about Emma. I still refused to believe she was gone.

"Mom, remember-I got called in. I really have to go," I said.

She widened her eyes in disbelief. "See? Your son cares about nothing but the hospital. He's been home less than an hour, and he's already rushing out again like that's the only thing that matters to him."

I scratched my head. "It's an emergency. I'll make it up to you, okay?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Just let him be himself," my father said again. "He's saving lives."

"Oh really? Then don't come to our bedroom tonight," my mother snapped and stormed off.

My siblings chuckled softly. My father scratched his head.

By the time I finally reached my penthouse, it was already 11:30 p.m. The emergency surgery had drained me completely-but it was worth it. We'd saved a life.

I sat down on the couch when a long-haired, snow-white golden retriever walked over and rubbed his face against mine. I reached out and stroked Milo.

He was a stray dog I used to see all the time in college-always with Emma. She'd wanted to adopt him, but dorm rules wouldn't allow it. I could tell how much Milo meant to her, so I adopted him myself.

"Emma, if you were here, Milo would be so happy to see you," I murmured.

I stood up slowly, a heavy pressure weighing on my chest, and carried the books into the study.

For days now, I'd been poring over medical literature, trying to find some explanation for the mysterious condition Emma supposedly had. There were countless possible causes for severe abdominal swelling-each more confusing and unsettling than the last.

My head started to ache. I was probably exhausted from surgery. I took off my glasses and leaned back in my chair for a moment.

I glanced at my phone and saw a message from William.

"I asked Emma's high school best friend, Grace, if they were still in touch," he wrote. "She said she hasn't been able to reach Emma either."

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

Even her best friend couldn't reach her? Was that true? Was she really gone?

I opened WhatsApp and scrolled through every conversation we'd had before she blocked me. I'd planned to delete the chat once I realized I'd been blocked-but I never could. Thank God I didn't.

After surgery, Martin and I realized we'd missed lunch. He'd assisted me during the procedure. He was a close friend from my time in the UK, and we'd both received offers from Palo Alto Medical Center. We worked together often-sometimes I assisted him.

We decided to eat in the staff lounge, reheating the meals we'd ordered earlier.

I glanced at my phone again, rereading my chats with Emma, debating whether I should add her using a new WhatsApp account. I couldn't believe she was gone. A sliver of hope still clung to my heart-that she was alive.

"Noah, you've been staring at your phone all day," Martin teased. "Waiting for a girlfriend's text?"

I looked up. Other doctors and nurses were watching, waiting for my response-most of them women.

It was no secret that I'd received countless confessions at the hospital. Even the director's daughter had confessed to me. I'd rejected them all.

I just shook my head. Martin chuckled.

Later that night, back at the penthouse, I opened my phone again and finally decided to register a new account. I even bought a new number for it.

At first, I considered using my real name-but then I thought better of it. Emma had blocked me once. If she knew it was me, she might block me again.

I bit my lip and typed in the name Benjamin Thomas.

I almost laughed at myself.

Benjamin Thomas was Emma's high school crush.

Yes-I wasn't her first love.

I'd seen it with my own eyes-Emma and her best friend Grace slipping a love letter into Benjamin's locker, giggling with flushed cheeks.

I'd never forget how red they were, how hard they tried not to laugh.

"Tch. it's just a letter. What are you even laughing about?" I muttered bitterly at the memory.

"This is insane," I thought.

But if this was the only way to find out whether Emma was still alive, I'd do it. Ever since I returned to the U.S., she'd been haunting my dreams.

I couldn't figure out why Emma had blocked me. We were happy that night. It had been her first time-I'd made sure to be gentle. I wanted her to cherish it the way I did.

We'd talked and held each other afterward, sharing so much. She wouldn't have blocked me just because I was going for my doctorate-she'd always supported my dreams. She'd even said she couldn't wait to see me in a white coat, being called Dr. Morgan.

Was it because I gave her a fifty-thousand-dollar gift card?

Did that make her angry?

I remembered that moment clearly.

"What does this card mean?" she'd asked, half-joking. "Are you treating me like a prostitute?"

"Of course not!" I said quickly. "I just wanted you to come to my birthday party. You could use the money to buy a dress. I don't like it when people humiliate you just because they can afford expensive clothes."

She laughed softly. "They don't humiliate me because of what I wear. They do it because I'm ugly and fat."

I turned to her, serious. "You're not ugly. You're beautiful, Emma." I kissed her gently.

She smiled.

It wasn't about the money.

She never used it. She sent it back.

When I went home on holiday, my sister told me there was a package waiting-sent six months earlier. It was from Emma. Inside were everything I'd ever given her, from high school onward. Even the stuffed animal I'd won for her at the arcade-the one she'd worked so hard to get herself.

She returned everything.

Including the food I'd bought her.

Including the fifty thousand dollars.

It was as if she were telling me she wanted me erased from her life completely.

I still don't know what happened.

Damn it.