32. Elliot
ELLIOT
Sitting in my office with information I never thought I would have, I have been considering the best way to approach this.
But before I could decide, the air shifted as tension filled the space between my office and the executive elevator, and I just knew.
I don't need to figure out what comes next because he came to me.
It feels like every conversation on the executive floor stopped.
Through the glass walls of my office, I see the phones paused midair, assistants suddenly fascinated by whatever is on their computer screens, because nobody needs introductions to the man who is walking towards my office.
Alexander Montgomery walked through Northwell as if he belonged there, his expression unreadable.
My assistant jumped from her desk, her eyes darting from him to me. I shook my head, letting her know to let this play out, and Alexander walked in like he’d done it a million times before.
"Mr. Vale."
I stood automatically.
"Mr. Montgomery."
He nodded once.
"I'd like a word."
It was not a request. I felt eyes on me and instinctively looked toward Rowan through the glass wall of my office. He'd already seen Alexander arrive. He gave me the smallest nod before closing the file he'd been reading.
Good luck.
Traitor.
Alexander shut the door to my office behind us; neither of us sat immediately. He walked toward the windows overlooking downtown Chicago, hands clasped behind his back.
"I've spent the better part of the past few weeks trying to understand you."
I frowned. "I'm not sure that's possible."
A corner of his mouth almost twitched. "No?"
I shrugged, and silence settled between us.
Finally, he turned. His dark eyes locked on mine, saying, "So tell me." His voice remained calm. "Why?"
I blinked.
"Why, what?"
He studied me with the same intensity Harper used when she was trying to solve someone.
"My daughter left you. You owe her nothing. You owe me nothing. And yet you've cost your company millions. From what I have been told, your board is furious. And now the media has attached your name to mine." Another pause. "So why?"
I looked down at my desk, at the reports still scattered across it, which proved exactly that what he was saying was true.
Northwell stock was down, and Caleb and Julian were working on a potential merger to course-correct.
But we still had investor concerns, and I had a lengthy list of legal recommendations.
A lengthy report on options for crisis management.
A few weeks ago, I would have read every page.
Today… I barely remembered they existed.
Somehow they weren’t what had me concerned…
"Because she shouldn't have to carry it."
Alexander didn't interrupt, so I continued shifting my weight and straightening to my full height, “The reporters, the nasty headlines…
my mistakes. The weight of everyone deciding who she is before asking.
" I rubbed the back of my neck, and then lowered my voice, adding, "I couldn't stop most of it.
" I sniggered. "I certainly couldn't stop what happened all those years ago.
" I looked back up. "But I can stop adding to it; I can take the focus and the blame.
I can make choices now that protect her. "
Alexander was quiet long enough that I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing. Then he asked, "Do you love my daughter?"
The question should have been simple. Instead…
It stole every prepared answer I'd ever had.
I laughed once, not because it was funny.
But it seemed to be my nervous response, and I knew I needed to be honest. I knew with every fibre of my being that if I ever stood a chance with Harper; I needed to get this right.
"I spent my entire adult life making sure nobody could ask me that."
Alexander waited.
"It turns out..." I shook my head. "...it doesn't matter whether I'm ready to answer." I met his eyes. "Yes." The one word came out in a whoosh, like my body could finally expel the answer I had been holding close. "I love her."
I held my breath, waiting for his response. Alexander nodded once, as though confirming something he'd already suspected. Then his attention shifted to the folders spread across my desk.
"You've been looking into my family."
There was no accusation in his voice, only observation.
I reached for the thickest file. "I've been trying to understand what happened." I slid it across the desk. "Because I realized someone wanted your family destroyed."
Alexander looked down; his expression didn't change.
He opened the file. The first few pages were old newspaper articles, then timelines, and I had a contact dig into financial records, which led to the discovery of shell companies and corporate registrations.
Information that is much easier to find now than it would have been decades ago.
Private investigator notes Rowan had somehow obtained.
His eyes stopped moving halfway through.
The silence became unbearable. Finally, he whispered, "... no."
I said nothing, and he continued reading.
I knew what was in that folder, and I could tell by the tension in his jaw, the white of his clenched knuckles, that I knew what he was reading.
A payment, then another, a transfer through a shell corporation three days before the woman came forward.
Then another larger payment six weeks later.
A different name, but the same account, the same destination.
Then the largest of the payments, which I could only assume was hush money to make sure the truth never came out after the accident.
Alexander closed the file carefully, but I didn’t miss the shake in his hands.
"My father."
I nodded once. “From what I could dig up so far, it looks like he paid her. He provided her with the information needed to make it look plausible, your schedule, dates when you could have been with her…” The words hung in the room.
"He was desperate, wanted you back in the fold.
He wanted the children to fulfill the Montgomery dynasty's expectations.
" Alexander said nothing, so I cleared my throat and added, "I don't think he expected... "
I couldn't finish it, but Alexander did. "...the photographers."
His voice cracked.
"I don't think anyone expected that." I offered,
Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally, he looked up; his eyes were glassy. "You could have sold this."
"Yes."
"You could have gone to the press."
"Yes."
"You could have taken it directly to my father."
"Yes."
"You brought it to me."
I nodded.
"It's your family."
Another silence.
"And?"
I smiled sadly. "I've spent my whole life trying to control outcomes. Protect myself." I looked at the file clutched in his hands. "It didn't work out particularly well." His mouth twitched, and I took a deep breath, adding, "The truth belongs to you."
Alexander studied me for what felt like forever. Then quietly asked, "When did you know?"
I frowned, unsure of exactly what he was asking. "Know what?"
"That you loved her."
I looked towards the city and thought about the answer, really thought about it. When I spoke, it was the absolute truth: “The night I fucked it all up.”
Alexander raised a brow in question, and I huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, adding, “I knew she was different. I knew I felt differently about her… But the night it hit me, the night I panicked and chose self-preservation over honesty, bravery and… her. I…”
Alexander moved across my office and finally sat in the chair in front of my desk. I followed and let out a deep breath when I leaned back in my chair.
“It was our holiday party. I was feeling…” I picked through the words floating in my head to describe how it felt that Harper wasn’t with me, how it set me off, why she went to New York instead of staying with me.
“Put off… upset that Harper didn’t go with me, that she went to New York and wouldn’t tell me why. ”
Alexander made a sound, and my eyes shot up to his. He looked away for a moment, looking back out the windows of my office before saying, “No matter where Harper has been in the world, no matter what she is doing… there are certain dates. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries...”
He didn’t finish, but I knew exactly what he was telling me. She left Chicago to go home to be with her father for something that was hard for them both to get through on their own, and I…
I swallowed down the shame and let the truth out, "A little boy."
Alexander slowly brought his eyes back to me, cocking his head to the side in question.
I smiled to myself, thinking about the moment.
"I was watching one of my brothers watch his wife, and when I looked to see what had that look on his face… she was holding a little boy in her arms, and suddenly it wasn’t Lucy…
It was Harper, looking so lovingly at a boy in her arms with bright blue eyes and blonde hair…
she was looking at him with what I always wanted to see from my parents…
It took my breath away; it terrified me.
" I paused, trying to calm my racing heart.
“I wanted that. I wanted her to look at our little boy like that… I wanted her to look at me like that, and I realized that in little ways she had been.”
I looked down at my hands in my lap; my voice had become quieter. More honest than I probably had ever been before. “I let other people get in my head; I spiralled; I got scared; I let the panic and deep-seated wounds guide me. Now… I can't imagine a future worth having that she isn't in."
Alexander turned back toward the windows. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded older. "Do you know how I knew I loved Sophie?"
I shook my head.
"For years I imagined becoming successful.
" A faint smile crossed his face. "That is how I was raised, the only way my future could possibly go. The biggest office, the biggest company, the biggest house, getting further in politics than my father ever had…” He chuckled.
"Then one day… I met her, and everything changed.
I realized none of those futures mattered if she wasn't laughing somewhere inside them. "
His eyes remained on the city. "I stopped imagining success, and I started imagining joy. Her joy."
Neither of us moved nor spoke. We both stared out at the Chicago skyline. Finally, Alexander picked up the file from his lap, stood and walked toward the door. His hand settled on the handle. Without looking back, he said quietly, "Harper has forgiven people before."
Hope bloomed so suddenly it almost hurt.
Then he continued. "But she's never forgotten."
The hope settled into something steadier.
He finally looked over his shoulder. "If you are fortunate enough that she gives you another chance..." His gaze held mine. "...don't be something else she needs to survive."
Then he walked out, and for the first time in weeks… I felt like I had finally begun becoming the man she deserved.