Page 23 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

I buzzed him in, but my jaw grew tight while waiting. He didn’t mess around with anything, so for him to show up to my place this time of the evening meant something was off. It was what I paid him to do—be ears to the ground in every circumstance.

When he got to the door, he walked inside without waiting for an invitation and handed me two envelopes as he passed, going straight to the bar. That told me everything I needed to know.

“Tell me this is about something minor,” I said while I began unsealing the larger, manila envelope, and I flicked a glance toward him, searching his face for any sign this could be less than catastrophic.

Graham poured two fingers of whatever he grabbed off the shelf and downed it in one go. “Another leak. This one’s worse.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I tore the envelope open and scanned the contents, and my stomach sank as I processed what I read. There were partial board projections, merger positioning, and commentary from a few unnamed sources that suggested the person who leaked this had direct access to my private files.

“Do you know who it is?” I asked, looking up to scowl at him. I couldn’t be angry with him; he was just the messenger. Though, my temper flared at the idea that someone inside of Raven & Rhodes was trying to sabotage the merger their CEO and board clearly wanted.

“We narrowed it to three. An analyst in the PR department named Marla looks good for it.” He leaned against the bar, arms folded, watching my reaction closely. Anger knotted in my chest, and my reaction was to immediately call her out, have her terminated. But a snap decision like that would have a whiplash effect in the press.

I looked up sharply. “Are you sure?” My voice was low, but the tension behind it cracked like a whip.

“She had access to the files. The timing lines up.” He didn’t blink.

“Look into it quietly. No board involvement and no press contact. I want a clean sweep of internal servers and a trace on the file path. Every keystroke and every download. If there’s a mole, I want their name by tomorrow night.” Crumpling the paper up into a wad, I let out a bit of my anger, but the worst of it still settled in my gut.

“Already on it,” he said with a nod, his tone clipped. “I know we can’t really move on it without proof, and if we do something hasty, the press will crucify you.” He hesitated, then glanced at the envelope I hadn’t opened yet. “That was delivered to me an hour ago by private courier. There was no return address, and it was clearly marked for you.” He motioned toward it, his mouth pressed into a line.

I peeled it open and drew out the single sheet of paper, which lacked a letterhead and contained only one line, printed in neat black ink:

We need to talk. Privately. – David Bennett.

The sight of his name triggered an instant, visceral reaction. I stared at it for a long moment, my jaw tightening, my breathing slow and deliberate. I stayed perfectly still and forced myself not to react.

Savannah had balked the second things got hot between us. She was afraid of what her father would think. It was the one honest thing she couldn’t hide from me, and when she told me we couldn’t take this further, I knew the reason why. David’s reaction meant more to her than how I felt about her. He was the thing standing between me and what I wanted to have.

And now this? This letter?

This was what she was afraid of. Savannah and I had photos of us circulating in media outlets across the country. David must’ve seen the story we were feeding the press, and of course he reacted. But instead of asking a question or opening a conversation, he sent a one-line summons—no context, no explanation. Just a demand, like I owed him something. Like I was out of line for wanting to brush up my public persona.

I set the paper down slowly. My hands were steady, but only because I forced them to be.

She wasn’t scared of me. She was scared of him.

This whole thing—the distance, the refusal to let it be more than it was, the fear in her eyes the second the word “real” came up—it all pointed back to her father. As my very good friend, he was the one person who should’ve supported me, and instead, his response threatened to leave her looking over her shoulder like a guilty teenager.

I moved to the bar and poured a drink, finally bringing the glass to my lips. The scotch went down in one hard swallow, and I poured another without hesitation.

Graham hadn’t said a word, but I felt his eyes on me.

“You ever get the feeling you were set up before you even stepped in the room?” I muttered.

He rubbed his jaw, then said, “The timing makes sense. Your face is on half the screens in the country. If David saw the photos, and he’s anything like you’ve told me he is, he was never going to sit this one out.”

I turned the letter over, half expecting something more—a threat, an ultimatum, or at least a second sentence. But there was nothing beyond those five calculated words.

What David didn’t understand was that he didn’t get to decide what Savannah and I were. She was a grown adult who could make her own choices, and I’d be damned if I didn’t feel desperate for her to choose me.

I looked up at Graham and pinched my nose. “Get the meeting on my calendar. I’m not going to be able to avoid this or push it off.” Savannah would expect me to be cordial, but David had some nerve butting in.

Yes, it was his daughter.

Yes, he had a right to be concerned for her and protect her.

No—I was not backing down.

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