Maya POV
The moment I stepped into Noah’s office, I felt the tension in the air like it was waiting for me. He didn’t even look up from his laptop before tossing the first punch.
“The presentation still isn’t perfect.”
I sighed, tossing the updated folder onto his desk. “Well, maybe perfect doesn’t exist, Noah. Maybe if you stopped nitpicking every damn slide—”
He looked up sharply. “So now it’s my fault?”
“I didn’t say that,” I snapped, crossing my arms.
“But you implied it.”
I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”
He stood, walking around his desk until we were face to face. “And you’re still not getting it right. It’s like you’re not even trying.”
“Excuse me?” I hissed.
“Are you as stupid as you look?”
That one cut deep. Not because it was new—but because it wasn’t. Because it reminded me that no matter how hard I worked, Noah Sterling always found a way to make me feel small.
Something inside me snapped.
I stepped back, my voice rising with every word. “You know what, Noah? If you’re not going to change your behavior—if you’re going to keep treating me like I’m beneath you—then maybe you and I don’t have to work together at all.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re threatening to quit?”
“I’m threatening to walk away from being constantly disrespected.”
We stood there, chest heaving, a silent war raging in the air between us. The space was suffocating, our anger electric.
But then his phone buzzed loudly on the desk.
The screen lit up.
“Dad – Dwarf Divide”
I blinked. Dwarf Divide? Was that a contact name or some kind of cryptic inside joke?
Noah didn’t say anything to me. He didn’t tell me to leave. He just picked up the phone, still fuming.
“What?”
His voice wasn’t cold like it usually was with me. It was clipped—tense. Like he’d been expecting the call but dreading it all the same.
“No, I didn’t sign off on that. Why would you do it without asking?”
A pause. “No, I told you—PR was already a mess after that.”
I stayed still, almost forgetting I was in the room. He wasn’t even looking at me anymore. Just pacing with the phone to his ear.
“It’s not about optics, Dad. It’s about credibility. You can’t fix everything with a check.”
Another pause. I frowned. Wait, what?
Noah raked a hand through his hair, sounding more exhausted than angry now.
“Well, maybe if we didn’t pour half our inheritance into hiding your old debts, we’d actually have a proper budget.”
I blinked again, harder.
Debts?
“But no, we had to keep pretending. Keep the façade. God forbid anyone finds out that Sterling money is more borrowed than built.”
My breath caught in my throat.
He stopped pacing. He looked out the window, silent for a second. Then, softer—more strained:
“I’m not like you. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
My arms slowly dropped to my sides. He hung up the phone. And just like that, the room was quiet again. But it wasn’t the same kind of quiet.
It was the kind of quiet that came after an earthquake. After something heavy shifted underground and you’re left wondering what just happened.
Noah turned slowly, clearly realizing I was still there. His eyes met mine—and for once, he didn’t look powerful. He looked… human.
I didn’t say anything right away. I didn’t need to.
Because suddenly, the carefully polished image of Noah Sterling—the flawless, arrogant executive, born into wealth and prestige—started to unravel in front of me.
He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t untouchable. He wasn’t even as rich as he pretended to be. In fact, he might be barely holding it all together.
“Your… dad?” I said softly.
He said nothing.
“You don’t have to explain,” I added quickly, even though part of me wanted him to.
Noah exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure you heard all of it.”
I nodded, slowly. “I did.”
He leaned against the edge of the desk, tension leaking out of his posture. “Yeah. My family’s Sterling in name, but not in value. Most of the wealth was lost a long time ago. My dad kept borrowing and bluffing to keep up appearances.”
I swallowed. “I thought… you were born into all of this.”
“I was born into lies.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. And for a second—just one—I didn’t hate him. I understood him.
I saw the man beneath the cruel words, the pressure behind the bark. I saw the boy who probably grew up trying to fix messes he didn’t make. The man who built perfection around him because everything else was always about to collapse.
And suddenly, I wasn’t just mad anymore.
I was… curious.
“Noah,” I said quietly, “why do you talk to me like I’m the problem, when it sounds like you’re carrying the weight of the world?”