Chapter 3 - Carter Tech
The headquarters of Carter Tech was a towering, modern monolith of glass and steel in Chicago's Fulton Market district. It was a physical testament to Naomi’s genius. She had developed an agricultural software system that had revolutionized supply chains across the globe. She was no longer the quiet graduate student who used to help me study; she was an empire builder.
I arrived at 3:45 PM, wearing a simple sweater and jeans—the expensive suits suddenly felt like armor for a man I no longer wanted to be.
An assistant escorted me to the top floor, where Naomi’s office overlooked the city skyline.
She was sitting behind a massive desk, reviewing data on a tablet. She didn't look up immediately, letting the silence stretch between us for a few moments before she set the tablet down.
"You're early," she noted, her voice strictly professional.
"I didn't want to risk being late," I said, sitting in the chair opposite her. "Where are the girls?"
"With their nanny in the playroom downstairs," Naomi said, leaning back. "They don't need to be part of this conversation. Let's get to the point, Andrew. You said you wanted to talk. Talk."
I took a deep breath, looking at the framed photos on her desk. There were pictures of Ava and Sophie playing in a park, laughing on a beach, blowings out candles on a birthday cake. In every picture, they looked happy, safe, and loved. Naomi had built a beautiful life for them entirely on her own.
"I don't have an excuse, Naomi," I began, my voice steady but thick with emotion. "When you told me you were pregnant, I panicked. I had this picture-perfect plan for my life—partner at the firm by thirty, a luxury condo, a wife from a prominent family. I thought a baby would ruin everything. I was so incredibly selfish, and I convinced myself that you’d be better off without a guy who was that terrified."
"You were right about one thing," Naomi said, her tone icy. "We were much better off without you."
"I know," I said, nodding. "And I'm not here to ask for forgiveness. I don't deserve it. But seeing them last night... seeing my own eyes looking back at me... it broke something inside me. I’ve spent seven years chasing success, and in five minutes, those two little girls made me realize that my entire life is completely empty."
I pulled a document from my jacket and placed it on her desk. It was a signed, notarized waiver, relinquishing any and all claims to my father's estate, allowing the eight million dollars to flow directly and immediately to the girls' trust fund.
"I signed the trust waiver," I said. "The money is theirs. Unlocked and clear."
May you like
Naomi looked at the signed paper, then up at me, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes. "And the acknowledgment of abandonment?"
"I didn't sign that one," I said softly. "Because I don't want to legally agree that I am a ghost. I want to be a father, Naomi. Even if it's from a distance. Even if it takes years for them to want to call me dad. Please... let me try."
