The Stranger I Married
Chapter 98: Father reunion

Chapter 98: Father reunion

The morning sun spilled across the windows of the café, golden and warm.

Ella had woken up to a small note tucked into the folds of her blanket, written in Nicholas’s sharp, elegant handwriting:

Have a good day, my girl. Driver’s outside if you need him. Text me when you’re done. –N

She smiled faintly at the note, pressing it to her chest for a moment before slipping it into her bag. Ever since the incident with Adrian, Nicholas had been softer in subtle ways—gentler glances, more lingering touches. He hadn’t spoken again about what had happened. He didn’t need to. Ella could feel his fear every time he looked at her like he wasn’t sure she’d stay.

But she was staying.

For him. With him.

And now, back in her apron, pouring shots of espresso and stacking scones behind the glass, she almost felt grounded again. Like everything outside the café belonged to someone else’s life—the drama, the betrayals, the ghosts.

"Morning, Ella," Dani called from behind the counter. "That guy in the suit’s back."

Ella frowned. "What guy?"

Dani gestured subtly with her chin toward the corner of the café, just by the window.

When Ella turned, her stomach dropped.

He was older than she remembered.

Or maybe not older—just worn.

Her father sat there in his pressed shirt and sports coat, a pair of sunglasses tucked awkwardly into the front of his collar. His hair was grayer now, thinner. But his posture was the same: self-important, guarded, calculating.

James Marquez

Ella’s blood turned to ice.

"Are you okay?" Dani asked gently, noticing the shift in her expression.

Ella inhaled sharply. "Yeah. I’ll handle it."

She untied her apron with stiff fingers, handed it to Dani, and walked over to the table slowly, deliberately.

He looked up as she approached, a ghost of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Ella," he said, as if her name still belonged to him.

She didn’t sit.

She didn’t speak.

She crossed her arms instead, holding herself together.

James gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Please. I just want to talk."

Ella’s eyes flicked to the table. Two coffee cups. He’d already ordered for her. She hated that—how presumptuous it was, how familiar.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said flatly. "I don’t want anything from you."

"I know," he said quickly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I know you don’t. That’s why I’m here. To change that."

Ella didn’t move.

He leaned forward slightly. "I’ve been watching the news. You’ve... made quite a name for yourself lately. And Nicholas Carter—he’s, well, he’s not exactly small-time."

There it was.

No pretense. No fatherly warmth. No how have you been?

Just straight to the point.

Nicholas Carter.

Ella laughed bitterly. "There it is. That’s why you’re really here."

His expression faltered for half a second before he plastered the smile back on. "Ella, come on. That’s not fair. I was worried about you—"

"Were you?" Her voice cracked out, sharp and low. "Where was that worry when Mom went into a coma and you moved another woman into our house two weeks later?"

He winced, but didn’t look away.

"Where was that worry when you emptied her savings and left me with nothing but hospital bills and broken promises?"

"Ella—"

"No," she snapped. "You don’t get to Ella me. You don’t get to show up here, 2 years too late, and pretend like you give a damn because I’m connected to a man whose money you probably want."

His face hardened. "That’s not what this is."

"No?" She leaned forward, resting her hands on the table between them. "Then tell me something—if I was still working double shifts and sleeping in my car, would you have come here? Would you have even remembered my name?"

Silence.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Ella straightened again, pulse pounding in her ears.

"You left me," she whispered. "You let her family humiliate me. You watched me beg, watched me get thrown out of my own home like I was a stranger. And you chose them."

"I made mistakes," he said, quieter now. "I was scared. Your mother—she was battling for her life. And you reminded me so much of her. It was... easier not to see you."

"That’s the worst part," Ella said, voice shaking. "You didn’t even hate me. You were just a coward."

James looked away, and for a second, Ella thought he might actually feel shame.

But then he cleared his throat, sat up straighter.

"Look," he said, tone shifting to something more businesslike, more comfortable. "I don’t want to fight. I just want to make peace. You’re with Nicholas now. That’s huge. Maybe we can—"

"No," she cut him off. "You’re not going to use me to get close to him."

"I’m not—"

"You are," she said. "You think I don’t recognize the signs? You’ve always sniffed around opportunity like a dog around scraps."

His mouth opened.

But she didn’t let him speak.

"I’m not my mother," she said. "You don’t get to come crawling back and charm your way into my life when you walked away the second it got hard."

James Marquez finally stood, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his pride flaring just enough to keep him upright.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," he said coldly. "Men like Nicholas Carter don’t stay with women like you."

Ella flinched—but she didn’t back down.

She stepped into his space instead, eyes blazing. "Men like him don’t leave women like me, either. He doesn’t run when things get ugly. He doesn’t hide behind a new family when the one he had needed him."

James narrowed his eyes. "You think he’s different? That he’s some kind of savior? You’ll learn."

"No," Ella whispered. "You will."

James narrowed his eyes. "You think he’s different? That he’s some kind of savior? You’ll learn."

"No," Ella whispered. "You will."

He stared at her for a long second, his face carved from disappointment and something colder—perhaps the realization that she was no longer the girl he could manipulate. That somewhere between the heartbreak and healing, Ella had grown teeth.

She didn’t flinch when he walked past her, his shoulder brushing hers slightly as he headed for the door. She turned back just in time to catch the stiff set of his back, the frustration in his steps. For a moment, just a flicker, she wondered if that was it. The last time she’d ever see him. And it should’ve felt like relief.

But it just felt... hollow.

Ella stood frozen by the table for a moment before Dani approached again, eyes cautious. "You okay?"

She turned to her friend with a brittle smile. "Yeah. Just... can you cover for a while?"

Dani nodded. "Go. Breathe. I got this."

Ella stepped outside, the wind sharp against her cheeks as she blinked into the late morning sun. Her hands were trembling. Not from fear, not even from sadness—just the magnitude of it. How easy it would have been to let him worm his way in again. He still had the voice, the mannerisms, the practiced lines. But it didn’t work anymore. She had outgrown the little girl waiting at the window for a dad who never came home.

She pulled out her phone.

Ella:He came to the café.

Nicholas: Who?

Ella:My dad.

Three dots appeared, then paused. Then again.

Nicholas:Do you want me to come get you?

Her throat tightened. It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t even concern hidden under control. It was presence. Offered freely. No pressure, no questions. Just a choice.

Ella:No. But I want to see you tonight.

Nicholas:Always.

She didn’t return to the café right away. Instead, she wandered a few blocks to the park near the art museum. It was quiet this time of day, the trees still half-naked from spring’s late bloom. Children laughed in the distance; pigeons strutted like they owned the benches. Ella sank down onto one, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her sweater.

She stared at the sky for a while, letting her thoughts rise and scatter like birds startled from a rooftop.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind.

"Men like Nicholas Carter don’t stay with women like you."

It had stung. Of course it had. But not because she believed it.

Because for a long time, she had.

She’d spent years thinking love was something people took from you when you became inconvenient. That when things got too hard, they left. That no one stayed—not really. Her mother’s silence. Her father’s betrayal. Even friends who disappeared when her life turned messy.

But Nicholas had stayed. Again and again.

When he had let her stay at his place. When they barely knew each other.

When she lashed out because she didn’t know how to be loved without wondering what it would cost her.

When her nightmares woke her screaming, and he just held her tighter.

He stayed.