Mr Carter

Elias POV

I walked out of a cafe, with an iced coffee in hand. The streets were bright with morning light, but it did little to pierce the darkness inside me. The memory of last night still fresh like it happened today.

Emily fell in step beside me holding a pizza in her hands, she didn’t let me walk alone to the company.

We entered her car and she drove off. Few minutes later we stopped at a towering glass building that stood tall as cars rolled into the company.

We entered the towering building that housed my father’s office. The air smelled of cleaning chemicals and antiseptic. My steps echoed in the vast hall, the sound served as a reminder that I was about to face a man who had spent his whole life exacting control over everyone around him.

My father’s office door loomed ahead, a dark wood monolith that seemed to swallow the light. I exhaled slowly and straightened my posture afraid of walking somewhat.

Emily stood by my side as her presence anchored me, reminding me that I am not facing this alone and I didn’t have to carry everything on myself.

I knocked once, and a single word followed. “Enter.” I opened the door and entered.

The office was vast, formal, and suffocating in its elegance. My 'supposed' father sat behind his massive desk, a man who radiated authority like a living, breathing tsunami. He didn’t glance up to look at me as I entered.

“Elias,” my father said, flipping through the documents in front of him. “You’re late.”

I replied him. “Traffic, father. Nothing more.”

His eyes finally lift up to stare at me. “Hmph. See that it doesn’t happen again. We have investors to impress and deals to close. Understand".

“Yes sir,” Elias said.

The tension between us was palpable. My father's gaze narrowed as if he were weighing whether my calmness was genuine or a mask.

“Good,” he said, a faint smirk touching the corner of his mouth. “I want you looking sharp today. We’re expecting a lot from you.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump of emotion lodged in my throat. My father has always seen me as a money-making machine, ninety percent of the contracts signed with his company were all my doing.

And yet I still was not qualified to hold a higher position, all because I am an illegitimate child.

"I will get to the conference room." I clenched my fists subtly beneath my suit, forcing myself to focus. There was no room for weakness here, not in front of my father.

Emily’s presence at the door reminded me once again that I didn’t have to face all this alone but I had my reasons. Emily and I both walked to the conference room to prepare for the meeting.

Not quite long, investors arrived, their smiles polished as they greeted me. The meeting officially started as soon as the investors arrived.

I answered each query with precision, my tone stiff as I answered them.

Yet beneath all this act, my thoughts drifted replaying last night in fragments, the shock of powerlessness, the bitter mix of anger and unwanted arousal.

I could still feel that man's weight pressing against me, the way I had been taken, and the sense that nothing was safe anymore.

My father observed from the corner of his eye, approving and critiquing. I met his gaze occasionally, returning it with a practiced smile like I always did, though each exchange left me hollowed out inside.

By the time the meeting concluded, I felt drained. From the business discussion and negotiations.

I was drained from the effort it took to hold myself together in the presence of my father, while the trauma of last night gnawed at me beneath the surface.

Back in my office, I sank into my chair, and I rested my head on my palm. Emily walked into my office, and she placed a sandwich in front of me. “You did well,” she said softly. “But you can’t keep holding it in like this.”

“I have to,” I pick up the sandwich to eat. “If I falter, even a little, my father will see it. He’ll exploit it.”

Emily’s hand pats his shoulder, “You’re not alone. And you don’t have to face either of them by yourself.”

I closed my eyes. Her words reminded me of this same situation, but they couldn’t erase the memory that burned in my chest.

I remembered the feeling of helplessness, the shame, and the pain I went through last night. I could not undo it, I could not forget it; nonetheless, I have to keep pushing through. I had to survive.

Standing up from the chair, I walked to the window, staring out at the city sprawling beneath me. Everything seemed so small from this height, insignificant.

Emily followed me. “You’ll have to decide,” she said softly, “whether to fight it or let it control you.”

“I’ll fight,” I whispered, almost to myself. “But for now let me be controlled.”

The rest of the day passed in a series of calls, meetings, and decisions. I moved through it with mechanical precision.

My father, as always, remained a constant test. Feeling the familiar sting of inadequacy, the gnawing frustration of a lifetime spent striving for a man who would never give me what I deserved.

As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the city, I finally allowed myself to exhale.

But I knew that the true battle was only beginning. That strange man's trail was still warm, and the threat of what had been done still existed.

Emily knocked on my door and entered, she placed a hand over my shoulders. “You did it” she said softly, “but do you want to remain a backup, someone not qualified to work for himself?"

I looked at her with my heavy eyes. "Backup” I repeated, “at least someone still notices me.”