Marrying My Father&# Chapter 140: A Lonely Feast

Chapter 140: A Lonely Feast

Chapter 140: A Lonely Feast

Christmas morning wasn’t joyful to everyone...

Henry was sitting at the long dining table, staring at the untouched plate in front of him.

The room was silent except for the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall.

A perfectly cooked breakfast was before him—eggs, bacon, toast, even a steaming pot of coffee.

But the sll turned his stomach.

He picked up his fork and poked at the eggs, letting the yolk run across the plate.

"rry Christmas," he muttered bitterly to himself, his voice echoed in the empty dining hall.

The table stretched on endlessly, its polished wood gleaming in the soft light of the chandelier.

He looked at the empty chairs.

This table used to be full of voices, moves, hands.

Now it was just him.

He sighed heavily, pulling his phone from his pocket.

His fingers hovered over the screen for a mont before he opened his contact list.

First, he called Greg, an old business associate. The phone rang twice before going to voicemail.

"Hey, Greg, it’s Henry. Just calling to... wish you a rry Christmas. Call

back when you can."

He ended the call and stared at the screen. He already knew Greg wouldn’t call back.

Next, he tried his cousin Lauren.

She’d always been a part of family gatherings in the past, back when they still happened.

The line rang and rang before disconnecting. No voicemail, no response.

Henry frowned, scrolling further. "Martin," he said aloud, tapping on the na.

Another cousin. Another chance.

This ti, the voicemail ca instantly.

"Martin, it’s Henry. I was just thinking it’s been a long ti. Thought maybe we could catch up—maybe lunch next week. Give

a call."

He placed the phone on the table and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

He didn’t know why he even tried. None of them wanted to talk to him.

He glanced at the empty chair across from him and imagined Beatrice sitting there, her cold smile taunting him.

Then Vanessa, rolling her eyes as she scrolled through her phone.

"Gone," he said aloud, the word felt suffocating in the silent room. "They’re all gone."

It was like a -Reflections of a Hollow Man.-

Henry stood up, pushing the chair back roughly.

He walked to the window, staring out at the snowy grounds of the estate.

His mansion felt more like a prison than a ho.

Beatrice wasn’t here.

Good riddance.

She’d taken her lies and venom elsewhere.

Vanessa wasn’t here either.

She’d called him a monster and walked out. His stomach churned at the thought, but he couldn’t bla her.

Half the servants had left, probably taking jobs where they didn’t have to work for soone like him.

Even Mike, his most loyal assistant, had taken an early holiday. "Family matters," Mike had said, but Henry knew better.

Mike just wanted to be far away from him.

Then there was Liam.

He gripped the edge of the windowsill as his chest tightened.

Liam was gone. Dead because of Beatrice’s sches and lies.

Liam had been one of the few people he could trust, and now even his mory felt like another ghost haunting this empty house.

He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they ca anyway.

"You have everything," he whispered to himself, his voice began cracking. "All the money, all the power. And look at you now."

Out of desperation, he scrolled further through his contacts and found Raiver’s na.

He hadn’t spoken to him in years, not since everything with Beatrice and his mother exploded.

Henry hit the call button and waited, his heart pounded harder with each beep in his chest.

The line rang. Once. Twice. Three tis.

"Co on, Raiver," Henry muttered, pacing the room.

Finally, the call connected, but no one spoke.

"Raiver?" Henry said cautiously.

There was a long pause before Raiver’s voice ca, cold and distant. "What do you want, Henry?"

"I—" Henry hesitated, unsure how to answer. "I just wanted to say rry Christmas."

Another pause. Then a bitter laugh. "rry Christmas? Are you serious?"

Henry gritted his teeth. "Raiver, I know things have been... difficult. But I—"

"Difficult?" Raiver interrupted. "Henry, you destroyed everything. My mother...Liam..., Eira—you dragged all of us down with you. And now you’re calling

for what? To make yourself feel better?"

Henry’s throat tightened. "I didn’t call to argue. I called because I have no one else to call."

"Well, that’s on you," Raiver snapped. "You made this ss, and now you get to live in it. Don’t call

again."

The line went dead.

Henry lowered the phone slowly, his hand trembled...

He wasn’t expecting for Raiver to pick up at all...not after everything...

The silence continued to grow.

He returned to the table and sank into the chair, burying his face in his hands.

The sound of the clock ticking felt louder now, each second dragging out painfully.

For the first ti in years, he felt small.

Money, power, influence—it all felt worthless now.

He had no one to share it with.

No one to sit across from him and laugh at the ridiculous decorations on the tree.

No one to tell him that his tie was crooked or that he’d made too much food.

"Liam would’ve stayed," he muttered bitterly.

He thought of Eira, of her quiet strength and defiance.

The way she had stood up to him when no one else dared.

But she hated him.

And why wouldn’t she?

He had taken everything from her, destroyed the family she loved, and now he was alone.

Just like she had been.

Henry looked at the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, its lights flickering softly.

It had been decorated by the staff out of tradition, but it felt like an awful joke now.

He reached for the phone again, hesitating. His finger hovered over Eira’s number.

"No," he muttered, pulling his hand back.

She didn’t need him ruining her life any more than he already had.

Instead, he stared at the untouched breakfast, the cold coffee, and the empty room around him.

"rry Christmas," he whispered again to himself.

For the first ti in years, Henry felt sothing foreign and sharp clawing at his chest.

Regret...