RISE OF THE SCORNFUL CRYPTO LORD

9. PROTECTION OR DENIAL?

Liam's POV

I walked into the restaurant, and the place was already buzzing. People from high school were scattered around tables, laughing too loud, clinking glasses like they owned the night. I didn’t say a word to anyone. Just grabbed a seat in the corner, ordered a glass of juice, and sipped it slowly.

After what I pulled on Michael outside, nobody messed with me. They kept glancing over, whispering, but nobody came close.

Good.

I wasn’t in the mood for small talk or fake smiles.

My mind kept drifting back to Dad. What the hell was that?

“Just the son of a late friend.” The words didn't resonate with me in any way every time I replayed I replayed that scene in my head.

I could still remember, Charles was right there and it all seems dad feared him more than he respected him because he just erased me in front of him without any hint of remorse.

Why?

Did he think I’d embarrass him? Or was there something bigger going on? I swirled the juice in my glass, staring at the bubbles rising. This whole night felt pointless now. I wasn’t here to catch up; I was here to shove it in Michael’s face, and that was done.

After about an hour, I couldn’t take it anymore. I flagged down the waiter, handed over my card, and paid the full bill for everyone. “Round it up and keep the change,” I said, not waiting for a thank you.

A few heads turned as I stood up, but I ignored them. I pushed through the doors and stepped out into the night.

Michael and his idiot friends were nowhere in sight. Probably slunk off with their tails between their legs. I let out a long sigh, feeling my shoulders ease a bit.

The rented car was still waiting as I heard the engine humming low. I slid into the back seat and told the driver, “Elijah’s place. You know the address.”

“Yes, I do.” He replied and drove off.

I watched the city lights as they reflected on the road as we drove. I tried shaking off the crap in my head, but dad's voice kept echoing in my head.

What a load…

By the time we pulled up to Elijah’s building, I was ready to crash somewhere that didn’t feel like a battlefield.

I buzzed myself up using the elevator. When I got to Elijah's place, I knocked and he opened the door in his sweats, holding a knife and a cutting board piled with carrots.

“Well, look who’s back. Don’t tell me you’re making my place your second home now that you’ve got the code. Next thing, you’ll be leaving your socks in my laundry.”

I brushed past him without a word, heading straight for nowhere. “Shut up, Elijah. Where is your kitchen?” I asked, walking towards the main possible place a kitchen would be.

Luckily, I got it right and walked towards the fridge. The fridge was stocked. I have never seen a guy who always has decent snacks. I yanked the door open, scanning for something quick.

“Hey! Boundary, man!” Elijah dropped the carrots on the counter with a thud and hustled over, waving his hands like I was raiding a vault. “That’s my stuff. Get your own fridge.”

I was faster. My hand shot in and grabbed a shiny red apple. “Too late.” I took a bite, the crunch loud in the quiet kitchen. It was crisp, sweet and definitely better than the fancy crap at the restaurant.

“Are these GMOs?” I asked.

“No, they aren't. My grandma planted it herself.” He responded and I just nodded my head in response. “And remember, I'm just helping you out till you gain control of everything. Don't get comfortable.” He replied, but I said nothing.

Elijah leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, still eyeing me like I’d stolen his wallet. But then he saw my face, the way I was chewing slowly and staring at nothing. He set the knife down. “Alright, what’s eating you? You look like someone kicked your dog.”

I swallowed the bite and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

“My dad. Back at the hotel, before I left for the thing. Charles shows up and Dad switches from being the best dad to a complete stranger, introducing me like I’m some random kid. ‘Son of a late friend.’ What the hell? Why would he deny me like that? In front of him?”

Elijah didn’t answer right away. He picked up a carrot and started chopping again, the knife thwacking steady against the board. I watched him, waiting, the apple half-gone in my hand. Finally, he stopped, knife mid-air, and looked at me straight. His eyes were serious, no sarcasm this time.

“Look, Liam. Maybe don’t dwell on the dark side so much. Not everyone’s out to get you like the Harringtons. Your dad… he might be trying to protect you. Charles is bad news. Guy’s got a rep for ruining lives. If your old man’s keeping you off his radar, that could be a good thing.”

I watched him leave the kitchen and I followed behind.

I sank into the armchair in the living room, the cushions swallowing me up. Protect me? From what? Dad never talked about his work, never mentioned guys like Charles. It didn’t sit right. “Yeah, maybe.” But it didn’t feel like protection. It felt like rejection.

Elijah came over to me, wiping his hands on a towel, and plopped down on the couch across from me. “So, how’d the get-together go? You book the whole place. I bet that shut Michael up.”

I took another bite of the apple as I chewed slowly. The tartness hit my tongue and it grounded me a little. “It went fine. Paid the bill and bounced early. Not worth sticking around.”

He nodded, like he got it. “Fair. Those high school types are the worst. Always acting like they peaked at prom.”

I finished the apple, tossed the core toward the trash bin. I missed by an inch and slid deeper into the cushions, stretching my legs out. “Don’t wake me if I crash here. I’m done for the night.”

Elijah snorted, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV low. “Oh, sure, make yourself at home. But heads up, you’re resuming work tomorrow as a staff member in Harrington Tech. Early start, staff meeting at nine. You gonna be ready, or do I need to drag your ass out of bed?”

I pulled a throw pillow over my face, muffling my voice. “Let’s wake up first. Then we’ll worry about Harringtons and their crap.”

The TV droned on with some late-night sports recap I loved before Claire's dad died, but sleep wouldn’t come. I lay there, staring at the ceiling through the pillow cracks.

Dad’s words looped over and over. Late friend. Why lie? What was he hiding? I sat up after a while, the room dim except for the TV glow. Elijah was focused on the screen, crunching another carrot. My phone sat on the coffee table, mocking me.

Face it, I thought. Just call him. Ask straight up.

I grabbed the phone, thumb hovering over Dad’s contact with my heart beating like I was about to jump off a cliff.

What if he blew me off? What if he laughed? I hit the button, then chickened out, canceling before it rang.

“Damn it.” I flung the phone across to the next couch. It bounced once and landed face down. I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my eyes. This was stupid. I was twenty-whatever, not a kid.

Minutes ticked by. Maybe ten, maybe twenty. 

Then my phone buzzed, loud against the cushion. I lunged for it, snatching it up. Dad’s name on the screen. My thumb froze. Answer or not? Part of me wanted to let it ring and make him sweat. But the other part… the hurt part couldn’t. I swiped to pick it up.

“Yeah?”

There was a pause on his end, like he was choosing words. I didn't hear “I’m sorry.” No “Hey, about earlier.” Nothing. Just, “I see you got the job. I’m proud of you, son.”

I blinked, sitting up straight. I could feel the words and it sounded casual as if we’d been chatting about the weather. “What?”

“The job,” he said, like I was slow. “Harrington Tech. They’ll call you soon to confirm. Congratulations. I just want to be the first person to congratulate you.”

I opened my mouth, but the question slipped out before I could stop it. “What job?”

He chuckled like old times. “You know what I mean. Good work landing it. Talk soon.” And click. The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, screen going black. My pulse thrummed in my ears. Not the job — screw the job.

How did he know?

I hadn’t told him anything about Harrington Tech. 

Claire? No, she wouldn’t.

Elijah? He didn’t even know Dad’s number. This wasn’t some lucky guess.

It could only mean one thing… Dad has an insider in my company…

Wait… If my dad knows, how much did Charles know?

That guy was Dad’s world, the one he was sucking up to a few hours ago. If Dad was feeding him info or worse, because he was hiding me from him.

What else was going on?

I dropped the phone on the table, harder than I meant. Elijah glanced over, pausing his show. “Everything good?”

“No,” I said. “But it’ll have to wait till morning.”

He shrugged and turned back to the TV. I lay down again, but my brain wouldn’t quit. Dad proud? Yeah, right.

More like he was tying up loose ends and tomorrow, I’d walk into that office like nothing was wrong. But inside? I was done playing blind.