CEO And Secretary

The House He Never Called Home

Chapter Five: The House He Never Called Home

The gates opened slowly.

Jordan Rodriguez sat in the backseat of his black sedan, one arm resting against the window as the familiar estate came into view. The mansion stood tall under the fading evening light, polished stone glowing gold beneath the expensive outdoor lamps.

Nothing had changed.

The same towering pillars.

The same trimmed hedges.

The same fountain his mother once stood beside while smiling at him when he was little.

He looked away immediately.

"Sir, should I wait here?" the driver asked carefully.

Jordan adjusted the cuff of his dark suit before opening the door himself.

"No. Go back. I'll handle myself."

The driver nodded.

Jordan stepped out without another word.

The cold evening breeze brushed against his face as he stared at the mansion. He had not been here in almost four months.

Not because he was busy.

Because he hated this place.

Every wall reminded him of something.

Every hallway carried memories he never wanted to remember.

And every time he walked through those doors, he remembered his mother.

His jaw tightened.

He walked toward the entrance.

The butler opened the door almost immediately.

"Young Master Jordan," the old man said respectfully.

Jordan gave a short nod.

"Is he home?"

The butler did not need to ask who he meant.

"Master Rodriguez is in his study."

Jordan walked past him.

The mansion remained as elegant as ever, but the atmosphere was quieter than before. He could hear faint classical music playing from somewhere upstairs.

His father always liked silence.

Jordan loosened his tie slightly while climbing the staircase.

The memories came whether he wanted them or not.

His mother laughing softly while holding his hand.

His father ignoring her at dinner.

The endless arguments behind closed doors.

The crying.

Then the funeral.

Jordan stopped outside the study.

His expression turned colder.

He knocked once before opening the door.

Richard Rodriguez sat behind a large mahogany desk, glasses resting low on his nose while reviewing documents.

Even in his late fifties, the man carried an overwhelming presence.

Sharp eyes.

Perfect posture.

Control.

Everything about him screamed authority.

Richard looked up slowly.

"You finally remembered this house exists."

Jordan closed the door behind him.

"I came because you called."

Richard removed his glasses carefully.

"Sit."

Jordan remained standing.

"Say what you want to say."

A flicker of irritation crossed Richard's face.

"Still stubborn."

Jordan said nothing.

The silence between them was never peaceful.

It was heavy.

Sharp.

Like two people constantly waiting for a fight.

Richard leaned back in his chair.

"I heard your company secured another international contract."

"You investigated me again?"

"I keep track of important things."

Jordan gave a cold smile.

"Interesting. You never kept track of your family."

The air shifted instantly.

Richard's eyes narrowed slightly.

"If you're here to start another argument—"

"Did you ever love her?"

The question cut through the room so suddenly that even the silence seemed to stop.

Richard stared at him.

Jordan's expression remained emotionless.

But his eyes were colder than before.

"Answer me," Jordan said.

Richard looked away briefly.

"That topic again."

"Did you ever love my mother?"

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

Richard folded his hands together.

"Your mother and I had an understanding."

Jordan laughed once.

A dry laugh without humor.

"An understanding?"

"Marriage is not always about love."

Jordan's jaw tightened.

"So that's a no."

"You don't understand adult responsibilities."

"Don't say that to me." Jordan stepped closer to the desk. "I watched her destroy herself trying to love you."

Richard's face darkened.

"Watch your tone."

"Or what?"

The tension in the room thickened.

Jordan's breathing remained controlled, but anger simmered beneath every word.

"She waited for you every night," Jordan continued coldly. "Even when you ignored her. Even when you humiliated her. Even when she cried herself to sleep thinking she wasn't enough for you."

Richard stood up slowly.

"Enough."

"No." Jordan's eyes hardened. "I want to know if you ever loved her at all."

For the first time, Richard looked unsettled.

Just for a second.

But Jordan noticed.

The older man turned toward the large window behind him.

"Your mother was a good woman," he said finally.

Jordan stared at him.

"That wasn't my question."

Richard remained silent.

And that silence gave Jordan his answer.

A bitter smile appeared briefly on his lips.

"I thought so."

He turned toward the door.

"Jordan."

Jordan stopped.

"What?"

Richard's voice became colder again.

"You came here with anger, but don't forget everything you have today carries the Rodriguez name."

Jordan slowly faced him.

"No." His voice was sharp. "Everything I have today carries my name. I built my company myself. Without your money. Without your connections. Without your help."

Richard's eyes narrowed.

"And yet you're still my son."

"Biologically."

The room fell silent again.

Jordan adjusted his sleeve calmly.

"If that's all, I'm leaving."

"Sit down."

Jordan didn't move.

Richard walked back toward the desk.

"There's something important we need to discuss."

Jordan's expression remained unreadable.

After a few seconds, he finally sat.

Richard clasped his hands together.

"You're aware my health hasn't been perfect lately."

Jordan showed no reaction.

"And?"

"The board has started asking questions about succession."

Jordan already knew where the conversation was heading.

His expression turned colder.

"No."

Richard frowned.

"I haven't even finished speaking."

"You want me to inherit Rodriguez Holdings." Jordan leaned back slightly. "My answer is still no."

Richard's patience visibly thinned.

"This company belongs to our family."

"Your family."

"It will eventually become yours."

Jordan looked at him for a long moment before speaking.

"Do you know why I started my own company?"

Richard remained silent.

"Because I never wanted to depend on you for anything." Jordan's voice stayed calm. "Not your money. Not your approval. Not your legacy."

"You're being immature."

Jordan almost smiled.

"Building a billion-dollar company from scratch is immature?"

Richard's face hardened.

"Rodriguez Holdings is bigger."

"Then let one of your loyal executives inherit it."

"They're not my blood."

Jordan's gaze sharpened.

"Funny. You only remember blood when it's convenient."

Richard slammed a hand lightly against the desk.

"Enough with this resentment."

Jordan stared at him coldly.

"Resentment doesn't disappear because you tell it to."

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked softly.

Jordan finally stood.

"I won't inherit your company."

Richard looked furious now.

"You would throw away a business empire because of old emotions?"

Jordan buttoned his suit jacket.

"No. I would refuse it because I already built my own empire."

Richard stared at him for a long moment.

"You're thirty years old now."

Jordan's expression did not change.

"And?"

"And you're still alone," Richard said bluntly. "You spend every hour building your company while ignoring everything else in your life."

Jordan gave a cold laugh.

"This conversation is becoming pointless."

"Marriage matters, Jordan."

Jordan's eyes darkened slightly.

"Not to me."

Richard leaned back slowly.

"At your age, I already had a wife and a child."

"And neither of them were happy."

The room became silent instantly.

Richard's jaw tightened.

"You think avoiding relationships will protect you from becoming me?"

Jordan stared at him expressionlessly.

"I don't need protection."

"No," Richard said coldly. "You need balance. You're becoming colder every year. One day you'll wake up in an empty house and realize work is all you have left."

Jordan adjusted his cufflinks calmly.

"Good. Quiet houses are peaceful."

Richard exhaled sharply.

"This is exactly why people talk. Investors notice these things. The board notices these things. A man in your position needs stability. A family."

Jordan almost smiled.

"You mean a wife for appearances."

Richard remained silent.

Jordan laughed quietly.

"Exactly. Business before feelings. That's how you've always lived."

A flicker of irritation crossed Richard's face.

"You're not a child anymore. Whether you like it or not, the Rodriguez name carries expectations."

Jordan's gaze sharpened instantly.

"I built my own name. Remember that."

Neither man looked away.

The tension between them became suffocating.

Finally Richard spoke again.

"One day you'll understand that success means nothing if you have nobody beside you."

Jordan's voice turned colder.

"The last person who believed that died miserable in this house."

Richard stared at him.

And despite the anger in his face, there was something else there.

Pride.

Though he would never admit it.

Jordan turned toward the door again.

This time Richard did not stop him immediately.

"Jordan."

Jordan paused.

"What?"

Richard's voice lowered slightly.

"Your mother loved you very much."

Jordan's fingers tightened briefly beside him.

But he did not turn around.

"I know."

Then he left the study.

The moment the door closed behind him, Jordan exhaled slowly.

His chest felt heavy.

He hated conversations about his mother.

Especially with his father.

Because no matter how cold he acted, the subject still affected him.

He walked down the hallway quietly.

A maid passing by immediately lowered her head respectfully.

"Young Master Jordan."

He nodded once.

Then he stopped near another hallway.

Unlike the rest of the mansion, this side felt warmer.

Less intimidating.

He walked toward the white double doors and knocked softly.

A gentle voice answered.

"Come in."

Jordan opened the door.

The atmosphere inside instantly changed.

Soft lights.

Warm colors.

A faint scent of tea.

Catherine Rodriguez sat near the window reading a book.

Beside her, a fourteen-year-old girl lay sprawled across the couch while scrolling through her tablet.

The moment she looked up, her eyes widened.

"Jordan!"

Emily immediately jumped off the couch and ran toward him.

Jordan barely had time to react before she hugged him tightly.

His expression softened almost invisibly.

"You're crushing me," he said flatly.

Emily grinned.

"You disappeared again."

Jordan gently removed her arms from around him.

"I've been busy."

"Liar."

Catherine smiled warmly from her chair.

"Welcome back, Jordan."

Jordan gave a small nod.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." Catherine closed her book. "You remembered to ask this time."

Jordan remained standing.

"The doctor said you needed rest after your surgery."

Emily crossed her arms dramatically.

"He checked on Mom before checking on me. Unfair."

Jordan looked at her calmly.

"You look alive."

"That's rude."

But Emily laughed anyway.

Jordan sat down across from them.

The tension from the study slowly faded.

This was the only part of the mansion he could tolerate.

Catherine was technically his stepmother.

But unlike his father, she had never treated him badly.

She never tried replacing his mother.

Never forced affection.

Never interfered.

She simply treated him kindly.

And Emily...

Emily had been too young to understand the complicated history inside the family.

She adored him without conditions.

Jordan tolerated very few people in life.

But he was softer with them.

Emily sat beside him.

"You missed my piano recital."

"I sent flowers."

"That's not the same thing."

Jordan glanced at her.

"You survived."

Emily rolled her eyes.

"You're impossible."

Catherine smiled faintly while observing them.

"You should visit more often, Jordan."

His expression became neutral again.

"I'm busy."

"Work isn't everything."

Jordan looked away.

"It is for me."

The room became quiet briefly.

Catherine studied him carefully.

"Did you argue with your father again?"

Jordan did not answer.

Emily sighed dramatically.

"You two always argue."

"Emily," Catherine warned gently.

"What? It's true."

Jordan leaned back slightly.

"Your father enjoys controlling people."

Emily muttered, "That's also true."

Catherine gave her daughter a look.

Emily immediately pretended innocence.

Jordan almost smiled.

Almost.

Catherine poured tea into a cup before handing it to him.

"Stay for dinner tonight."

"No."

"Jordan."

"I have work."

Emily grabbed his sleeve.

"Please?"

Jordan looked down at her hand.

Silence.

Then he sighed quietly.

"One hour."

Emily grinned triumphantly.

"See? I knew you'd stay."

Jordan drank his tea without responding.

Catherine watched him carefully.

There was always exhaustion hidden beneath his coldness.

He worked constantly.

Built his company aggressively.

Rarely rested.

Rarely smiled.

Sometimes she wondered if he even allowed himself to breathe.

"How is your company doing?" Catherine asked.

"Fine."

Emily groaned.

"Why do you answer every question like a robot?"

Jordan looked at her blankly.

"Because unnecessary words waste time."

Emily laughed loudly.

"See, Mom? He's hopeless."

For the first time that evening, the atmosphere became light.

Not warm exactly.

Jordan Rodriguez was not a warm person.

But calmer.

And for a little while, the weight on his shoulders lessened.

Until the door opened.

Richard stepped inside.

The air immediately changed again.

Emily sat straighter.

Catherine placed her teacup down quietly.

Richard's gaze landed on Jordan.

"You're staying for dinner?"

Jordan answered coldly.

"Temporarily."

Richard nodded once.

"Good."

The silence that followed felt uncomfortable.

Emily looked between them before standing quickly.

"I'm hungry."

Catherine stood as well.

"Let's head downstairs then."

Jordan remained seated for a moment.

Richard looked at him.

"Think carefully about what I said earlier."

Jordan stood slowly.

"I already did."

Then he walked past him.

Richard watched his son leave the room.

The same son who looked more like him every year.

Cold.

Proud.

Unyielding.

Yet somehow carrying more pain than Richard ever allowed himself to show.

Downstairs, the dining table was already prepared.

Emily talked endlessly throughout dinner while Catherine listened patiently.

Jordan ate quietly.

Richard occasionally observed him from across the table.

The atmosphere remained civil.

But underneath it was tension neither man could hide.

At one point Emily started discussing a school competition.

"Jordan promised to come if I make it to finals," she announced confidently.

Jordan glanced at her.

"I said I'd consider it."

"Same thing."

"No."

Emily ignored him.

Catherine smiled faintly.

Richard remained mostly silent.

But eventually he spoke.

"Your company has been expanding too aggressively lately."

Jordan cut into his steak calmly.

"It's working."

"Fast growth creates enemies."

"Good."

Richard's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Arrogance becomes dangerous when combined with power."

Jordan looked up.

"Then I learned from the best."

Emily immediately looked nervous.

Catherine sighed quietly.

The tension returned instantly.

Richard placed his utensils down.

"One day you'll understand that business isn't built on pride alone."

Jordan wiped his hands calmly.

"And one day you'll understand that respect cannot be bought with money."

Silence.

Even Emily stopped talking.

Catherine finally spoke gently.

"That's enough for tonight."

Jordan stood.

"I should leave."

Emily frowned.

"Already?"

"I stayed longer than planned."

She sighed dramatically.

"Fine. But answer my calls next time."

Jordan picked up his coat.

"We'll see."

Emily hugged him again before he could stop her.

"Drive safely."

Jordan looked awkward for exactly one second before lightly patting her head.

"Study harder."

"You're literally impossible."

But she laughed anyway.

Catherine walked him toward the entrance.

"Take care of yourself, Jordan."

"You too."

She hesitated briefly.

"Your father... he isn't good at expressing things."

Jordan's face became unreadable again.

"That's his problem."

Catherine sighed softly.

"Maybe."

Jordan opened the door.

The cold night air greeted him instantly.

Before stepping outside, he paused.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Catherine looked surprised.

Jordan rarely thanked anyone.

But before she could reply, he had already walked away.

The mansion gates slowly opened once more.

Jordan entered his car and loosened his tie again.

His head rested briefly against the seat.

The conversation with his father replayed in his mind.

Did you ever love her?

His fingers tightened slightly.

He already knew the answer.

Maybe that was why it angered him so much.

Because his mother had loved a man incapable of loving her back.

Jordan looked out the window as the mansion disappeared behind him.

Then his phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen.

Maureen.

His expression returned to its usual cold calm.

He answered.

"What is it?"

Her voice came carefully from the other side.

"Sir, there's an issue with tomorrow morning's meeting schedule."

Jordan closed his eyes briefly.

Back to work.

Back to control.

Back to the version of himself that felt nothing.

"Handle it," he said coldly.

And the car disappeared into the night.

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows while silence filled the car.

Jordan loosened his tie further before resting his head back against the seat.

His father's words replayed repeatedly inside his mind.

Marriage matters.

A family.

An empty house.

Jordan closed his eyes briefly.

He hated those conversations.

People always spoke about marriage like it solved loneliness.

As if signing papers and wearing rings magically created love.

His parents had been proof that it did not.

He remembered his mother sitting alone at the dining table late at night waiting for Richard Rodriguez to come home.

Sometimes she waited for hours.

Sometimes she fell asleep there.

But Richard rarely came.

And when he did, he barely looked at her.

Jordan had grown up watching affection slowly turn into sadness.

Watching hope become exhaustion.

Watching a woman destroy herself loving someone emotionally incapable of loving her back.

That was why he never believed in marriage.

Never believed in attachment.

Feelings made people weak.

Dependent.

Disappointed.

His phone buzzed again.

Maureen.

Jordan stared at the screen for a moment before answering.

"What now?"

"Sir," Maureen said carefully, "Mr. Lawson moved tomorrow's meeting from nine to seven-thirty in the morning."

Jordan's expression remained blank.

"Then adjust the schedule."

"I already did."

"Good."

There was a brief silence.

Then Maureen spoke again.

"You sound tired."

Jordan's eyes opened slowly.

Cold again.

Controlled again.

"Focus on your work, Miss Keller."

"...Yes, sir."

He ended the call immediately.

The driver glanced at him through the mirror carefully before speaking.

"Home, sir?"

Jordan stared out the window.

Home.

The word felt empty.

His penthouse was quiet.

Cold.

Perfectly organized.

And completely lifeless.

Exactly how he preferred it.

"Yes," he answered calmly.

The car continued through the city.

Meanwhile, back at the Rodriguez mansion, Richard remained alone in his study.

The untouched whiskey glass on his desk reflected the dim light from the chandelier above.

He stared silently at the closed door Jordan had walked through earlier.

The conversation replayed inside his mind.

Did you ever love her?

Richard slowly removed his glasses.

For the first time that night, exhaustion showed clearly on his face.

He remembered Jordan's mother vividly.

Her laughter.

Her patience.

The way she always looked at him like he was more human than he actually was.