Chapter 4 - "Do You Know Who I Am?": The Man Holding My Son Is the One Funding Your Entire Firm
Silence dropped over the suite like a suffocating shroud.
Rowan stood entirely paralyzed, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish dragged onto dry sand. His eyes darted frantically between my face and Gideon's. He looked for any hint of a joke, any trace of sarcasm.
He found none.
"D-Daughter...?" Rowan whispered, the word barely catching on his dry tongue. "No. No, that's... that's impossible. Phoebe’s maiden name was Miller-Sterling. She said her father was an old retired salesman who lived upstate..."
"My late mother’s maiden name was Miller," I said calmly, crossing my legs and taking a slow sip of herbal tea from a porcelain cup. "And my father is retired from daily operations. He only manages his family trust and private equity holdings now. When I met you, Rowan, I wanted someone who loved me for who I was, not for my family’s trust fund. I wanted to see who you were when the cameras were off and the money didn't matter."
A bead of cold sweat rolled down Rowan's temple, dripping onto his linen collar. "Phoebe... baby... why didn't you tell me? Why would you hide something like this from your own husband?"
"Would it have changed anything?" I asked, setting the teacup down with a sharp clink. "Would you have rushed to the hospital when my water broke if you knew I was worth two hundred million dollars in trust assets? Would you have told your mother to be quiet when she mocked my labor pains?"
Rowan lunged forward, his hands outstretched in desperation. "Phoebe, listen to me! You took it completely out of context! Mom was just trying to keep me calm because she knew how stressed I was about the baby! I was planning to come straight here after the dinner, but the weather got bad, and then the boat engine stalled—"
"The weather was seventy-two degrees and clear across the entire tri-state area for the last three days," Dad interrupted coldly, still rocking Leo gently. "And the GPS transponder on your mother’s yacht showed you docked at the Montauk Marina for forty-eight hours of continuous partying."
Rowan flinched as if slapped across the face. "Mr. Sterling... sir... please. This is a private marital misunderstanding. Phoebe is emotional right now because of postpartum hormones. She isn't thinking clearly—"
"Postpartum hormones?" I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound that cut him off instantly. "Rowan, for the last six months, you have treated me like an unpaid maid and an inconvenient roommate. You spent our emergency savings on designer jewelry for your mother while asking me to pay your office rent. And when your firstborn son was fighting to enter this world, you told me to 'stop being dramatic' and hung up on me."
"I made a mistake!" Rowan yelled, panic bleeding through his polished veneer. He took another step toward the crib, his face contorting into an artificial mask of fatherly devotion. "Fine! I messed up! But that is my son! You cannot keep me from my child! Hand him to me right now! I am his father!"
Rowan reached out to grab Leo from Dad's arms.
Before his fingers could even graze the blanket, the heavy suite doors burst open. Marcus and two imposing, broad-shouldered private security officers stepped into the room. In a fraction of a second, Marcus stepped between Rowan and my father, his massive hand clamping onto Rowan’s shoulder like an iron vice.
Rowan cried out in pain, stumbling backward under the force of Marcus’s grip.
"Don't touch him," Dad said, his voice dropping into a register that made the room vibrate. "You forfeited your right to hold this boy the second you told his mother to take an Uber while she bled on the curb."
"You can't do this!" Rowan shrieked, clutching his shoulder as Marcus pinned him back toward the door. "I have rights! I’m his legal father! I will take you to court! I will drag your family name through every tabloid in the country!"
"You're welcome to try, Rowan," Dad replied smoothly, pulling a crisp linen handkerchief from his pocket to adjust Leo’s swaddle. "In fact, I encourage you to call your lawyer immediately. Because while you were on the yacht, my legal team and my daughter were having a very interesting conversation with the Board of Directors at Sterling Crest Hospitality."
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Rowan froze. The panic in his eyes morphed into sheer, unadulterated terror. "What... what did you say?"
"Your marketing retainer with Sterling Crest has been terminated effective eight o'clock this morning," Dad said with a placid smile. "And by four o'clock this afternoon, an independent forensic auditing team from Ernst & Young will be seizing every server, ledger, and hard drive inside Apex Media."
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