Page 74 of The Decoy

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.