Chapter 17 #2
“You know, it’s not easy to do that,” Noah said, knowing his father thought he was leading him down a dark and dangerous path, but Noah was skipping out in front of it.
“It’s a skill I’ve honed my entire life, but one I was forced to develop as a teenager.
” He leaned forward. “But you didn’t bring up my show, or that skill, because you’re fascinated by it.
You did it because you know something about me, and you were planning on revealing it tonight. ”
Matias’s smile faded, and he blew a puff of air out of his nose. He used to do that when Noah was a kid, and Matias was frustrated about something, but had to bite his tongue.
Matias shifted in his chair, his head angling in a way Noah knew too well. It was a warning.
Growing up, Noah had seen that look more times than he could count, always right before he crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to cross.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matias said.
“Sure you do, because you know that I wasn’t born with the name Noah Chase.
” Noah ignored the lump in his throat, a steady, insistent pressure that made every word feel like a big piece of chewy meat had gotten stuck there and refused to budge.
“And you wanted to be the one to tell my viewers, to tell the world that my given name was Angel Salazar. That I am, in fact, your biological son.” Noah held his father’s gaze after the words left his mouth, aware of how deliberate that choice was.
Every instinct he’d developed on air told him to pivot toward the camera, to include the audience in the moment, to let them in on the reveal.
He didn’t.
Not because it wasn’t for them, but because he’d be lying to himself, his viewers, and the people he worked with if he didn’t at least acknowledge that this was good fucking TV.
But this one tiny moment was between Matias Salazar and the son who’d asked him to never speak of his existence again, and what happened when Angel reclaimed that identity on his own terms.
Noah watched his father. Matias didn’t react the way most people would when something was flipped on them. There was no visible shock, no immediate denial.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and the muscles along his jaw flexed, but they didn’t hold. His posture stiffened, not aggressively, but with intent, like he was adjusting to a different version of the conversation than the one he thought he’d walked into.
“After all these years,” Matias said, his voice lower now, stripped of the easy charm he’d worn for the camera, “after everything you asked—no, begged—for me to keep that identity a secret… You choose to reveal it yourself like this. I’m shocked.
I don’t know what to say. I swore I’d take that to my grave.
” His father leaned forward, which was a calculated move and a good one.
“Why? Are you afraid of what other truths might be uncovered during this interview?”
“No,” Noah said. “Being your son is the only thing I’ve ever kept hidden.” He shifted back in the chair. “And under the circumstances, I think my audience will forgive me for that.”
“Maybe, but you still betrayed them. You betrayed your friends. Your girlfriend.” Matias rested both hands on the armrests, opening himself, as if he’d gained control of the situation.
“My girlfriend has known who I am for the last five years,” Noah said flatly. No emotion. No inflection of his voice. No defense. Just fact.
Matias folded his arms. “I could end this interview right now. Tell the guards to take me away and not say another word.”
“You could,” Noah said. “But then I finish the show without you. You don’t get to respond.
You don’t get to correct anything I say, and you don’t get to shape how any of this is understood.
At least, not right away.” He glanced toward the camera then back at his dad.
“I’m not here to talk about me,” Noah said.
“I’m not here to talk about the name I carried for fourteen years, or the decision I made to walk away from it. ”
“But that’s what people want to hear.” Matias lifted his chin.
“Okay.” Noah nodded. “It’s pretty short and simple.
My father was convicted of raping and killing twelve women.
I didn’t want to live with that burden the rest of my life, so I changed my name.
The only thing it did was give me a chance to define who I’d become, but I know now I couldn’t outrun it.
And I accept that. End of story.” Noah counted to three.
“Now, let’s move on to why I’m here,” he continued.
“My viewers want to know about you and what you’ve been doing in this prison.
So, if there’s anything you feel the need to unburden yourself of, when we come back from this short commercial break, that would be the time. ”
A second later, the camera light went off, and a collective sigh and gasp filled the room.
Noah didn’t move. He kept his posture the same, his focus still on Matias, like the conversation hadn’t paused just because the audience couldn’t see it.
The door opened, and out of the corner of Noah’s eye, he saw Ziggy, moving quickly, with the makeup artist behind her.
“Need anything?” Ziggy asked as she handed bottles of water to him and Matias.
“Nope. I’m good," Noah said.
The makeup girl worked quickly to take the shine off his skin. The brush moved across his forehead, his cheek, his jaw, but he barely registered it.
“What kind of ambush is this?” Matias asked.
“I told you, we don’t communicate during breaks,” Noah said. “We want the show to be authentic. Nothing staged. Nothing rehearsed or practiced.”
Matias’s gaze shifted toward the doorway before returning to Noah.
“You waiting for someone?” Noah asked.
“No.” Matias took a quick sip of his water before Ziggy snatched it.
“Fifteen seconds,” the cameraman called.
Ziggy’s hand rested briefly against Noah’s arm before she turned and headed out of the room.
Noah placed his hands back on his thighs, grounding himself in the contact, feeling the tension in his body settle into something he could control.
The world knew he was Angel Salazar. A mystery solved. But that wasn’t going to be what this show was remembered for.
The cameraman lifted three fingers. Two. One.
“Welcome back to Unfiltered. I’m Noah Chase, and this is my guest, Matias Salazar.”
“Shouldn’t you now be saying, Angel Salazar?”
“No,” Noah said with confidence.
“You can’t change who you are, son.”
Noah couldn’t believe his father had walked right into that, and that alone was unsettling. Matias didn’t walk into traps, he set them. Didn’t matter that Noah had caught him off guard once. Or that he’d beaten his dad to the first reveal.
His father could still easily sucker punch Noah, and Noah needed to prepare himself for anything.
“I’m glad you brought that up. Because change is one of the things I wanted to ask you about.” While it was true that Noah never rehearsed the show or shared his questions with his guests, he did prep his staff, but sometimes no amount of planning could stop things from backfiring.
He hoped this one didn't.
“You’ve been in this prison for twenty-five years.
I’ve seen you four times. This is the fifth.
” He let that sit with his viewers for a second.
Not because he was looking for a reaction from them, but because he wanted them to understand how little his father knew the adult version of him.
“And I’ve spoken to you, what, once on the phone? ”
“Are you trying to rub that in?”
Noah ignored the attempt at the dig. “But I think you’ve communicated with me more than that,” Noah said. “Though you’ve tried to hide it even from me.”
Matias’s brow creased, just slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Interesting,” he said, “because on my birthday, actually, I received a card and a gift. And while you didn’t sign them, I believe they are from you.”
Matias shook his head before Noah finished the sentence. “You’re mistaken.”
And on cue, the door opened.
Noah turned as Ziggy stepped into the room with Claire close behind her.
Claire looked like she swallowed a lemon.
Her shoulders were tight, her movements careful in a way that suggested she was thinking about where every step landed.
In her hands, she carried the pieces Noah had been waiting for—the card, the note, the puck—held together like evidence that was burning a hole in her hands.
She crossed the space quickly, keeping her head down, turned away from the camera as she approached Noah.
Noah took the gifts and watched as her eye flicked toward Matias. When his gaze caught hers, she froze for a second before becoming flustered, then turning and rushing off toward the wall where Ziggy stood.
“Do you two know each other?” Noah asked.
A slight audible gasp from Claire.
Noah hoped it was picked up.
“No. Why would we?” Matias asked, but all he needed to say was no. He didn’t need to qualify anything, and that told Noah so much.
“Huh.” Noah picked up the card, turning it slightly between his fingers before pushing it toward Matias.
“I got this on my birthday at the station.” When Matias didn’t take it, Noah put it on the small table between them.
“Along with this puck and note, which just reads ‘Happy Birthday. 25 years is a long time.’ Kind of a dead giveaway, don’t you think?
Plus, no one in my current life knows I ever played hockey.
” He tapped it with his finger after he set it next to the card.
“But it’s this card that threw me. I’d like you to read it. ” Noah lifted it and held it up.
“I find this to be a childish game.”
“But you like games,” Noah said.
“Fine.” Matias glared and took the card.
“You think you’re untouchable. The golden boy.
The truth-seeker. The reporter everyone is equally afraid of and desperate to impress.
But who holds you accountable? I know what you did.
You should think about who you hurt when you make decisions without even a conversation. ”
“What is it you think I did?” he asked. “Because I’ve been trying to figure that out, and I’m coming up short.”
His father slapped the card down on the table. He didn’t say a word. Just stared at Noah like he wanted to throttle him.
“This feels like your moment,” Noah continued. “Your opportunity to say whatever it is you think I’ve done. To call me out. To hold the truth-seeker accountable.”
Matias’s gaze shifted.
Noah turned his head just slightly, following Matias’s line of sight. Then back to his father. “Are you looking at my girlfriend? Or my researcher?”
“Neither,” Matias said.
“Interesting, because someone sent my girlfriend flowers,” he continued, his tone tightening just enough to sharpen the point, “and signed my name to the card.” He leaned forward, closing the distance between them by inches.
“I’m thinking that might’ve been you, too—though not directly,” Noah added, "Through someone else. Someone we all know.” Noah paused as he watched the cameraman begin the countdown to the commercial break.
All he needed was to land this one perfectly.
Just a few more sections. “Wonder who that could be?”
The green light on the camera went from green to red. The makeup artist came flying through the door. Ziggy stayed by the wall, keeping Claire occupied, and Noah did his best to keep his heart from jumping right out of his chest.