The shouting is impossible to ignore.

You’ve never heard Addison like this—sharp, furious, barely restrained. Something hits the desk.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing here,” she snaps, “but you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m still your father,” the man—her father, you realize—replies smoothly.

“That’s funny,” Addison bites out. “I don’t remember having a father. Just a man who cheated on my mother and destroyed our family. Who only shows up when he wants something.”

He sighs. “Come on, Kitten, don’t be dramatic.”

Her body goes rigid. “Don’t call me that.”

You hesitate at the doorway. This isn’t your business. But you know Addison—how she builds walls when she’s hurt. Right now, she’s not just angry. She’s raw.

Steeling yourself, you push the door open.

Addison stands behind her desk, fists clenched, cheeks flushed. Across from her, a sharply dressed older man watches her with amusement.

Both turn to you.

“Am I interrupting?” you ask.

Addison exhales sharply. When she opens her eyes, the fire is still there—but now, relief.

“Perfect timing,” she mutters, stepping toward you, as if distance from him will make him disappear. “This conversation is over.”

Her father barely glances at you. “Addison—”

“She said it’s over,” you cut in, firm.

For a moment, he looks like he might argue, but then he exhales, straightens his tie. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

As he walks past, he adds lazily, “See you soon, Kitten.”

Addison flinches but doesn’t react. The door clicks shut behind him.

Silence.

You glance at her. Jaw tight, hands curled into fists.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently.

She lets out a bitter laugh. “I hate that man.”

You step closer. “You don’t have to deal with him alone.”

For the first time since you walked in, Addison looks at you—not just as a coworker, but as someone she can trust. She swallows hard, shoulders dropping slightly.

“…Thanks,” she murmurs. Then, softer—“Stay?”

You nod. “As long as you need.”