My parents skipped the college graduation I'd worked night shifts to pay for because they scheduled my younger sister's baby shower on the same day. After I walked across the stage alone, I found 37 missed calls and Dad's demand that I apologize for missing her party. Two days later, I went home hoping they would finally listen—and my sister's first question was whether I'd brought a gift for her baby.

By Thursday afternoon, Patrick had almost managed to purge the intrusion from his mind. He was deep in a complex financial restructuring analysis for a tech acquisition when his executive assistant, Chloe, buzzed his desk intercom with a note of hesitation in her voice.

"Patrick? You have a visitor in the main lobby. They... well, they refused to leave their name, and security called because they're making a scene."

Patrick frowned, not looking up from his dual monitors. "If it's a disgruntled former associate, have building security escort them out. You know the protocol."

"It's not an associate," Chloe said, her voice dropping lower. "It's an older couple. The woman is crying, and the man is demanding to see the 'managing partner' by name. They said they're your parents."

The blood rushed to Patrick's ears, a hot wave of fury and sheer disbelief. He had made it abundantly clear. He had drawn a line in the dirt that could be seen from space, yet they had actually tracked him down to his office—the one place he guarded more fiercely than his home.

"Send them up," Patrick said, every syllable clipped and dangerous. "To my private conference room. Not the lobby."

Ten minutes later, Patrick pushed open the glass door of the executive conference room. Arthur and Eleanor Sterling looked completely out of place against the minimalist, high-end decor of brushed steel and smoked glass. Eleanor was clutching a worn leather handbag like a shield, her eyes darting nervously around the room as if expecting the furniture to arrest her. Arthur stood beside her, his shoulders slumped, his face flushed with a mixture of righteous indignation and profound humiliation.

When Patrick walked in, Arthur straightened up, trying to muster the patriarchal authority that had cowed a teenage Patrick years ago.

"Well," Arthur barked, crossing his arms. "It took an act of Congress just to get past the security desk downstairs. Is this how you treat your own flesh and blood? Hiding behind secretaries and armed guards?"

Patrick didn't sit down. He remained standing by the head of the long conference table, his hands resting flat against the polished wood. He looked at them—really looked at them. They looked older, smaller, frayed around the edges by the relentless friction of their own poor choices and enabling habits. But there was no remorse in their eyes. Only entitlement.

"You have exactly three minutes to explain why you are trespassing in my building before I have you physically removed," Patrick said, his voice terrifyingly calm.

Eleanor gasped, pressing a trembling hand to her chest. "Trespassing? In our own son's office? Have you lost your mind, Patrick? We drove four hours from Maplewood because you wouldn't pick up our calls! We are desperate! The bank is threatening foreclosure on the house, Julia's landlord is evicting her, and you're standing there talking to us like we're corporate clients!"

"You are not clients. You are strangers who share a genetic code with me," Patrick replied, his gaze unblinking. "And you are trespassing on private property. Did you honestly think that showing up here, making a scene in the lobby, would force my hand? Did you think I’d write you a check out of embarrassment?"

"We thought you had a heart!" Arthur shouted, slamming his palm onto the table. The sharp crack echoed in the quiet room. "We sacrificed everything for you! We put food on the table!"

"You did the bare legal minimum required by child labor laws," Patrick countered sharply, his voice slicing through Arthur's outburst. "You funded Julia's private schools, her car, her dance lessons, and her baby showers, while I worked the night shift at a distribution center to pay for my own college tuition—the same tuition you told me was a waste of time. You skipped my graduation to eat cake at Julia's party, and when I called you from the parking lot, you told me to apologize to *her* for ruining her mood."

Arthur's face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He hadn't expected Patrick to throw the past back in his face with such clinical, unemotional precision.

"That... that was different," Eleanor muttered, her voice dropping to a defensive whine. "Julia was pregnant! She was emotional! You were just getting a piece of paper! You were already out of the house!"

"Yes," Patrick said quietly. "I was. And I intend to stay out. Get out of my building. If you ever come within a mile of my office or my home again, I will ensure that any future communication goes through my attorney, and I will press charges for harassment."