CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
My hand shot out and locked around his wrist before conscious thought caught up with instinct. "Don't. Touch. Her."
"Hey!" He tried to jerk free, his camera swinging on its strap. "I wasn't—"
I yanked him away from Casey, my grip tightening until I felt bones shift under my fingers. "You don't get to put your hands near my daughter."
"Easton!" Palisade's voice cut through the red haze, but it was too distant to reach me.
The photographer stumbled backward, and I followed, still gripping his arm. Every angry impulse I'd been controlling for months condensed into this single moment.
"Let go of me!" He twisted, bringing his camera up defensively.
That camera. That fucking camera that had been pointed at Casey's frightened face.
I grabbed it with my free hand and ripped it from his neck. The strap snapped. The photographer shouted something, but the sound was drowned out by blood pounding in my ears.
The camera was solid in my grip. Expensive. Professional-grade.
I thought about every photo they'd taken without permission. Every headline that called her a "secret." Every moment of her childhood, they'd tried to steal and sell.
The camera hit the floor with a satisfying crunch. Plastic splintered. Glass shattered.
"You son of a—" The photographer surged forward.
I shoved him back hard. He crashed into the reception desk, sending paperwork flying. Another photographer raised his camera, flash going off in rapid succession, capturing every second.
"Get the fuck out!" I roared, advancing on them. "All of you! Now!"
They scrambled for the door, equipment knocking against furniture in their haste. One more tried to get a parting shot. I grabbed his camera too, ripping it from his hands and hurling it against the wall.
"Dad!" Casey's voice finally penetrated the rage.
I froze, chest heaving, fists still clenched. The clinic was suddenly silent except for my ragged breathing and Toby's distressed chittering from his cage.
Casey wasn't scared of the reporters anymore.
She was scared of me.
Palisade moved first, pulling Casey into her arms, her eyes locked on mine with an expression I couldn't name. Not quite fear. Not quite anger. Something worse.
Disappointment mixed with understanding.
"They filmed it," she said softly. "All of it."
My hands were shaking now. Not from rage anymore, but from the crash that always followed. I looked down at my knuckles, already swelling where I'd gripped the cameras too hard.
"I know."
"Easton…"
"He reached for her." My voice came out raw. "He was going to touch her, and I just…" I couldn't finish. I couldn't explain how completely the control I'd been building for months had dissolved in one second.
Palisade was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was measured. "We need to call the police. Report the trespassing. And then…" She took a shaky breath. "Then you need to call your lawyer. Because that video is going to be everywhere by tonight."
She was right.
But when I closed my eyes, all I could see was that camera pointed at Casey's terrified face, and I couldn't bring myself to regret destroying it.
"Monique," Palisade called toward the back, her voice remarkably steady. "Can you take Casey for ice cream in the break room? The chocolate one with the cookie pieces."
Monique appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene with wide eyes but nodding quickly. "Come on, sweetie. Let's see if Rusty wants company, too."
Once they disappeared, Palisade turned back to me.
I stood in the wrecked reception area, adrenaline still surging through me with rage and guilt fighting for dominance. The urge to go after those journalists hadn't faded, but now I was also grappling with the fact that Casey had seen me lose control.
The silence was deafening after the chaos. Palisade moved mechanically, picking up scattered paperwork, avoiding my eyes. I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
From the break room, Monique's soft voice talking to Casey, the cheerful tone at odds with the wreckage surrounding us.
"I'll start making calls," Palisade said finally, her voice carefully neutral. "Police. My insurance. Your lawyer."
"Sadie—"
"Not now." She held up a hand, still not looking at me. "We'll deal with this. We have to. But not right now."
Something in her tone snapped the last thread holding me together.
"This is exactly what I was afraid would happen," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "These people don't care about boundaries or privacy."
Palisade's head snapped up, her eyes flashing. "Don't you think I know that? I'm doing everything I can to protect her!"
"Are you?" I challenged, stepping closer. "Because I've been saying for weeks that your house isn't secure enough, that the clinic is too accessible. I offered solutions, and you shut them all down."
"Because your solution is to uproot our entire lives!" Her voice rose before she caught herself, glancing toward the break room. "Casey has routines, stability. She can't just pack up and move into your condo because some reporters are being aggressive."
"This isn't about reporters being aggressive," I countered, gesturing toward the rehabilitation room where Toby's cage sat. "Casey nearly got hurt today. She was terrified. And it won't stop, Sadie. Not as long as I'm in the public eye and she's my daughter."
Palisade ran a hand through her hair, exhaustion and frustration written in every line of her body. "So, what's your solution? We abandon our home? My practice? Everything we've built here?"
"If that's what it takes to keep Casey safe, yes!" The words came out more forcefully than I intended. I took a breath, trying to rein myself in. "Look, I'm not saying it has to be permanent. But until this dies down, you both need somewhere secure."
"And that place is your condo." Not a question. An accusation.
"It could be anywhere with proper security," I countered. "A hotel, a rental with a gated entrance, I don't care. But this…" I gestured around the clinic, "isn't working. And your house with its picket fence and complete lack of a security system isn't any better."
Her eyes flashed with anger. "I've kept Casey safe for six years without your input on home security!"
"Nobody knew she was my daughter!" I shot back, frustration building again. "Things have changed, Sadie. The world knows who she is now, and that makes her a target for people who don't care about her well-being, only about getting a story or a picture that sells."
We stared at each other, tension crackling between us. Our shared concern for Casey manifested in completely opposite approaches.
"If you'd told me about her from the beginning," I said, my voice dropping to a near-whisper, "we could have prepared for this. I could have protected her properly."
Palisade's eyes filled with tears, though her expression remained defiant. "I was protecting her! From exactly this kind of circus!"
The raw emotion in her voice stopped me short. For the first time, I saw past the resistance to the fear underneath. Not just concern for Casey, but a deeper fear of losing control, of having the life she'd carefully built disrupted beyond recognition.
I took a step closer, softening my tone. "I know you were doing what you thought was best. But we're here now, and we need to deal with the reality in front of us."
Palisade looked away, blinking rapidly. When her eyes met mine again, I glimpsed a vulnerability I rarely saw.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "Not just of the reporters. Of everything changing too fast. Casey's world has already been turned upside down, discovering you're her father. Now the media attention, your wanting us to move… It's a lot."
I reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, I took her hand. The gentle pressure of her fingers curling around mine eased something in my chest.
"I'm scared too," I confessed. "I've spent my whole adult life in the public eye, but this is different. This is Casey. This is you. I can handle them coming after me, but seeing them frighten our daughter today…"
Palisade squeezed my hand, understanding passing between us. "We need to fix this," she agreed. "Together. For Casey."
"Together," I echoed, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.
The break room door opened, and Casey peered out, her face sporting a chocolate ice cream mustache. "Are you guys done fighting because of me?" she asked, her small voice filled with a worry no six-year-old should have to carry.
Palisade and I exchanged a glance, silent communication passing between us. Then, still holding hands, we approached our daughter.
"No, sweetheart," Palisade said, kneeling to Casey's level. "We're trying to figure out the best way to handle the photographers who scared you."
"We both want to keep you safe," I added, crouching beside Palisade. "Sometimes grown-ups have different ideas about how to do that, but we're working it out."
Casey looked between us, her brow furrowed in a way that reminded me painfully of myself. "Are we going to be okay?"
"Absolutely," I said.
"Of course we are," Palisade added.
Our synchronized response drew a small smile from Casey, who reached out to wipe the ice cream from her chin.
"Monique said we should have a sleepover at Dad's house," she announced, looking hopeful. "She said it has an elevator with a special key and a doorman who looks like Santa Claus."
I bit back a smile, shooting a glance at Monique, who shrugged unapologetically from the break room doorway.
"We'll talk about it," Palisade said, but there was a hint of warmth in her voice now.
As Casey returned to finish her ice cream with Monique, Palisade turned to me, her expression a mixture of resignation and determination.
"We need a plan," she said quietly. "Not a temporary fix, but something sustainable. For all of us."
I nodded, hope rising cautiously. "Tonight, after Casey's asleep. We'll figure it out."
She took a deep breath, then nodded. "Tonight."
It wasn't a solution yet, but it was a start.
As I watched Palisade go check on Casey, I realized this crisis might be the push we needed to figure out what we were to each other beyond co-parents of a remarkable little girl.
I didn't want just Casey in my life. I wanted Palisade, too.
Now I needed to convince her that what was best for Casey might also be what was best for us.