Chapter Eighteen
Ellis
It’s been a few days since our run-in with Dylan.
I stayed home yesterday and worked from my home office, but I came back into the city today to get some more work done.
Usually, the silence of my office is like a sanctuary for me, but I’m so busy making sure everything is prepared for when I’m out when the baby arrives.
I’m reviewing final royalty schedules for Brody’s last campaign, my palm resting on my stomach. The baby’s been active this afternoon, shifting against my ribs in rolls that make me have to adjust my posture every few minutes.
The glass doors to my office swing open without so much as a knock.
My assistant, Sarah, doesn’t even have time to announce them. She hovers in the doorway, her hands clutching her iPad to her chest, her eyes wide. “Ellis…I didn’t have time—”
“It’s fine,” I say smoothly, raising a hand to stop her panic. Just hold my calls.”
My dad strides into my office like a storm front rolling in.
At sixty-eight, my dad is still razor-sharp. He’s dressed in a charcoal Savile Row three-piece suit, his greying hair combed back, his posture rigid.
Right behind him, looking exhausted and mildly uncomfortable, is my brother Bryan.
As soon as my father reaches my desk, Bryan catches my eye over our father’s shoulder, giving me a subtle warning wince that tells me everything I need to know.
“Dad,” I say, keeping my tone measured as I lean back in my chair. “I didn’t have a meeting with you on my calendar today. To what do I owe the surprise visit?”
“Don’t play games with me, Ellis,” he barks. He doesn’t sit down. He stands right in front of my desk, leaning his hands on the polished wood, looming over me. “I just spent thirty minutes talking to the director from the latest commercial shoot.”
My jaw tightens, and a sharp flare of frustration ignites in my chest.
“Did you?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. “And why, exactly, are you making calls to my set director?”
“Because when an altercation occurs on a production stage involving my daughter, her boyfriend, and her ex-boyfriend, I expect to be informed before it hits the tabloids!” He smacks the desk. “I was told threats were made between these two men, and a near physical encounter over you.”
I let out a breath, tapping my nails against the desk. I’ve spent the last few days ensuring everyone there that day has signed fresh NDAs, believing we had the situation handled with discretion. To hear someone violated that agreement makes my blood boil.
“It was a personal issue, Dad,” I say, my voice cold.
“It was handled quickly and as quietly as possible. No press was present, and to my knowledge, no footage was captured, and the rest of the shoot ran smoothly. If you had questions, you should have come to me first. That was my business to deal with.”
“Your business?” he scoffs, straightening to his full height, his eyebrows pulling together. “My daughter, who is very pregnant with my grandchild, has an almost physical altercation on a set, and you expect me to sit back and let you handle it on your own?”
“He didn’t touch her, Dad,” Bryan interjects, stepping up beside him, trying to defuse the situation. “I checked the security logs myself before we came barging into Ellis’s office. Brody handled it. She was fine.”
My dad points at Bryan, flashing a warning glare. “I’ll deal with you later. I suspect you knew the truth all along.
“I have to say, I was a bit curious as to why your ex and your boyfriend would be on set together in the first place, with you coordinating production schedules, so I asked what you could possibly be talking about,” his voice dropping. “And what he told me was beyond surprising, Ellis.”
The air in the room thickens with tension, but I don’t move.
My dad leans over the desk again, his eyes locking onto mine. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I expect an honest answer.” He pauses. “Is Dylan Boone the biological father of my grandson?”
The question hangs in the air between us. Bryan shifts uncomfortably behind our dad, staring at the rug.
I don’t blink. I don’t look away. I don’t flinch.
“Yes,” I say, my voice steadier than I suddenly feel admitting that out loud. “Dylan is the sperm donor.”
My dad lets out a harsh breath. “Jesus Christ, Ellis…”
“Before you finish whatever speech you’re forming in your head,” I interrupt, holding up my hand to cut him off, “listen to me very clearly. Dylan Boone is nothing more than a genetic footnote. The biological contribution, if you will. But Brody is this baby’s father.
He’s been his father in every way since I found out I was pregnant.
He’s taken care of me and fully intends to raise this baby with me.
Bringing Dylan into this is non-negotiable. It will not happen.”
“Non-negotiable?” my dad yells, his composure breaking. He raises his hands. “Are you out of your goddamn mind, Ellis? Boone thinks he can just walk away? Get my daughter pregnant, insult her on a public set, and just what? Walk off into the sunset without taking any responsibility for this baby?!”
“What responsibility? I don’t need his money,” I say firmly as I stand. “I certainly don’t want his name, and I don’t want him anywhere near my son. Trust me, if you knew the half of it, you wouldn’t want him near the baby or me either. Brody is his father, Dad. Plain and simple.”
“Ellis, sweetheart,” my dad tries to tamp down his anger.
“I appreciate that Brody is in your life and you two clearly love each other. But what will happen if Dylan ever decides to come forward and claim him? It will be a shitstorm for all of you. I think we should take care of this now and get it out in the open before it’s too late.
I’ll call my lawyers and have them draw up the paperwork. ”
“Dad, you cannot make this into a public display, making my pregnancy a circus. Haven’t you always told me that silence is power? So let’s let Brody and me handle this the way we want to. Please don’t disrespect Brody or me by creating chaos in an already contained situation.”
“I hear you, Ellis, but what about his contract?” he commands. “If you don’t want him around, and I certainly don’t, I see no choice but to terminate his contract early. We can cite it for a breach of moral conduct, drop him from Overtime.”
I tilt my head. “Dad, abruptly terminating his contract will trigger mandatory disclosures. We can’t do that.”
My dad sighs and lets his head fall back in frustration.
“The press will ask why he was cut,” I say, stepping around my desk. “Dylan’s PR will go on the defensive to protect his brand. Reporters will start digging, and the media will connect the dots. It will invite the exact toxic speculation and public attention we’re trying to avoid.”
He pauses, his eyes still burning with anger and frustration.
“Dad, I love you for being so protective of me and your grandson, but I think we need to let him finish his current contract,” I say, leaving no room for debate.
“We let him fulfill the remaining terms, and when the contract expires, we don’t even entertain a conversation to renegotiate or extend.
Ever. He gets phased out of our brand without a single headline. ”
He stares at me, and I can see his mind warring between retribution and strategy.
“I think you’re letting him off easy, Ellis,” he says.
“I won’t terminate his contract for now, but only because your PR assessment is correct.
But I’m your father. It’s my job to ensure that the people who disrespect my family pay the price.
And I will not allow Dylan Boone to walk away scot-free. ”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He simply turns on his heel and marches out of my office, letting the door close loudly behind him.
I stand in front of my desk, smoothing the front of my ribbed knit dress and letting out an annoyed exhale.
“E,” Bryan says, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”
“I mean… obviously not, Bryan,” I say bluntly, my eyes snapping to his. “If Dad does something rash, it will be bad for all of us. Especially this baby. Please help me keep him from making a big move on this.”
Bryan sighs, running his hand through his neatly styled hair. “You know how Dad is when he gets like this. He already had our lead attorney on standby before we even stepped out of his office to come here.”
“Look, you know I was mad at Dylan in the beginning for how he handled the news, but never once have I wanted or expected him to take responsibility. I meant it when I said he is nothing more than a donor. But he can’t do this, and you need to help me.”
Bryan stares at me and nods slowly.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll do everything I can. I’ll contact legal separately and tell them that everything needs to come through you first.”
“Good,” I say, nodding. “Try to distract him with something else until we can push this out of the way.”
“I’ll do everything I can,” he says, squeezing my arm before turning and walking out of my office.
As soon as my room is empty, I take a deep breath. My father might be a bulldozer, but I’m the architect here. He’ll learn quickly that I’m not letting him take control of this situation.
I grab my phone off my desk and hit Brody’s number.
It rings twice.
“Hey, Princess,” Brody’s low baritone fills the speaker. He sounds slightly out of breath, and the background noise echoes with clatter from the Titans’ weight room. “Just finishing up a set. Give me one second to set this on the rack. Everything okay?”
“Uh…well, I need to talk to you somewhere where you can have some privacy, maybe?”
The line is quiet for two seconds, and the background noise fades.
“I’m in the hallway outside the weight room, but I can pop into one of the meeting rooms if you want me to,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “What happened? Talk to me.”
“Well, my dad just left my office,” I say, walking over to the window. “Someone notified my father about the incident at the commercial shoot.”
A heavy silence stretches over the line. He just breathes.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Go on.”
I continue pacing behind my desk. “He asked me point-blank if Dylan was the biological father, so I confirmed it. He kind of flipped out. He wants Dylan to take public ownership of the baby to avoid a potential problem in the future, and he also wants to break Dylan’s Overtime contract.”
“Wait. He wants to drag Dylan into our lives?” Brody asks in the same lethal tone he had with Dylan.
“Yes,” I say. “I handled the contract issue, I think. He agreed to let the current contract expire. But he’s still threatening to unleash his legal team on Dylan.
He thinks he’s taking care of me and the baby.
Bryan was with him, though, and he’s going up to my father’s office to try to tame the situation. ”
On the other end of the line, I hear Brody exhale, releasing some of the tension from his voice.
“Ellis,” Brody says, without any panic. “Listen to me.”
“Yeah.”
“You did what you could for now,” he says. “You shut down the business aspect of this. But why don’t you let me talk to your dad about the legal piece?”
“Brody, he’s pretty upset right now,” I say, frustration bleeding through my calm. “He wants to insert himself where he has no business being.”
“I get it,” Brody cuts in. “Charles is trying to be a dad the only way he knows how. But he’s forgetting one very important detail.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“He’s forgetting that you aren’t handling this by yourself anymore,” Brody says, with an authority that makes a smile touch my lips. “You’re mine. The baby is mine. And listen, I like your dad, but he doesn’t get to decide how my family is protected. I do.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m leaving,” Brody says. I can hear the click of his locker door shutting, followed by his heavy steps as he moves toward the exit.
“Coach will understand when I tell him it’s a family situation.
I’m coming to Manhattan, and I’m going to sit down with him, man to man, and I’m going to take care of it. ”
I lean back against my desk, crossing my ankles. “I don’t know, Brody. My father can be stubborn, and he’s used to eating these lawyers alive. Are you sure you can handle him?”
He laughs, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Princess,” Brody says softly, “your dad spends his days playing with paper and threats. I spend mine getting pounded into the ground by three-hundred-pound men. I’m not worried. Not even a little bit.”
I close my eyes, a breathless laugh escaping me.
“I’ll handle your dad,” Brody continues, his voice dropping into a tender tone he reserves for me. “And then I’m coming home, I’m cooking dinner, I’m going to rub your feet, and we’ll put this day- hell, this week- behind us. Sound good?”
“Sounds good, but I’m going with you.” I take a seat in my desk chair.
Brody chuckles. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m on my way to him. I love you, Princess.”
“I love you too, Vaughn.”
The line goes dead.
I set my phone on my desk for a minute and spin in my chair to look out the window. The storm my dad brought in here today, replaced by the confidence and comfort I have in Brody.
The baby kicks again, so I place my hand over the spot.
“We got this, little man,” I murmur to my stomach. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”