My Boss, My Babydaddy

Chapter 104

Jocelyn's POV

Rachel Brennan's documentary crew has been here since eight AM, turning our foundation into a film set.

"Just be natural," Rachel keeps saying, as if natural is possible when a lens follows you to the coffee machine.

But the families don't care about cameras. Maria Rodriguez arrives with her three kids at eight-thirty, Sofia launching herself at me before I can set down my tea. I catch her mid-leap, swing her up despite the protest from my lower back.

"I got an A on my math test!" Sofia announces to the camera, the room, the entire borough of Brooklyn. "Miss Jennifer helped me with fractions."

"That's amazing, mija."

The camera catches everything—Sofia's grin, Maria's quiet pride, the moment that reminds me why we built this place. Not for documentary coverage or donor recognition, but for the families who walk through our door carrying impossible situations and leave carrying something closer to hope.

Rachel pulls me for a sit-down interview at ten. Standard questions about mission and impact, the kind I could answer in my sleep. I make it through without incident, though the lights feel hotter than they should and my voice sounds distant by the end.

"Perfect," Rachel says. "Let's break for lunch."

I'm heading to my office to check my blood pressure when Maya intercepts me in the hallway. "Can I talk to you?" Her voice is careful, quiet. "Privately."

We step into the empty conference room. She closes the door.

"I just got an interesting call from a blogger named Cynthia Parks. She runs CelebGossip Daily."

"The gossip site?" My stomach drops before I understand why.

"She was asking about our finances. Specifically, how much of our budget goes to 'director salary and benefits' versus direct services." Maya's jaw tightens. "She also asked about your pregnancy. Whether it was planned, whether the timing was convenient for documentary purposes."

"What?"

"It gets worse." Maya pulls out her phone, opens a website. "CelebGossip Daily lists its editorial staff on their About page. Look at the consulting editor."

She turns the screen toward me. The name hits like a closed fist.

Trevor Marsh. Consulting Editor.

Trevor Marsh—former board member who opposed every expansion decision, questioned every leadership choice, made thinly veiled comments about Zayden's "reformed criminal past" during meetings until we voted him off six months ago for trying to block the Detroit location.

The same Trevor Marsh that Landon flagged in his office weeks ago. "His objections weren't organic. They were too coordinated, too specific. The kind of opposition that comes from someone being fed talking points."

"He's been working there for three months," Maya says. "And look at the articles."

She scrolls through the site's archive. I read the headlines with growing dread.

Sources Close to Foundation Report Concerns About Financial Transparency.

Insiders Question Whether Wolfe-Hartwell Expansion Is Sustainable.

Foundation Leadership Under Scrutiny: Anonymous Staff Express Safety Concerns.

Every article published in the last month. Every one citing anonymous "insiders" and "sources close to the foundation."

Every one containing details specific enough to suggest actual insider knowledge—budget numbers, program timelines, staff dynamics—wrapped in innuendo designed to erode public confidence.

"Trevor's the source," I say. "He's been feeding them foundation information since he left the board."

"Not just feeding." Maya swipes to another page. "Look at the bylines. Half these articles don't list an author, but the writing style matches Trevor's board communications. I pulled his old memos from our archives and compared."

"You analyzed his semicolons?"

"I'm thorough when I'm angry." Maya sets the phone down. "Joss, Trevor isn't just leaking information, he's writing the articles himself, published anonymously through a platform he edits. And the timing aligns perfectly with Aiden's escalation."

The architecture crystallizes—the same way it did when I overheard Marcus and Aiden in the hallway, the same sickening clarity of seeing a structure you've been inside without recognizing its shape.

"Map it for me," I say. "All of it, out loud."

Maya takes a breath.

"Aiden operates through three channels. Channel one: Trevor. Former board insider with enough institutional knowledge to write credible insider-source articles. He feeds gossip sites that generate public doubt about our leadership and finances. Every negative article increases donor anxiety."

"Channel two?"

"Vivienne. Public-facing narrative. The Instagram posts, the abuse allegations, the media interviews. She provides the emotional story that makes the gossip site articles feel true even when they're fabricated. Trevor provides the institutional details. Vivienne provides the human drama. Together, they create a complete picture of an organization in crisis."

"And channel three."

"Marcus." Maya's voice hardens. "Internal sabotage. He provides Aiden physical access to the building, pushes leadership restructuring from inside the board, weaponizes Jocelyn's pregnancy in formal meetings. While Trevor and Vivienne attack from outside, Marcus hollows us from within."

The room is quiet while the shape of Aiden's network fills the space between us—three channels, three pawns, one architect who never appears on any record, any article, any formal filing.

"He built it to be invisible," I say. "Every attack comes from someone else. Trevor writes the articles—Aiden's name is nowhere near them. Vivienne makes the allegations—Aiden's involvement is unprovable. Marcus facilitates access—Aiden just walks through doors other people open."

"Except now we can see it." Maya pulls up her phone again. "Trevor's consulting role at CelebGossip Daily is public information. His connection to the foundation is documented—six months on the board, voted off for obstruction. The articles contain details only a former insider would know."

"That's circumstantial."

"Combined with Aiden's documented harassment, Marcus's security violations, Vivienne's coordinated media campaign, and the overheard hallway conversation about shared timelines?"

Maya raises an eyebrow. "That's a pattern. And patterns are what criminal conspiracy cases are built on."

I pull out my phone. Text Landon:

Trevor Marsh is consulting editor at CelebGossip Daily. He's been writing the anonymous insider articles. We can connect him to the foundation through board records. This completes the network—Trevor, Vivienne, Marcus, all connecting back to Aiden.

Landon's response comes in sixty seconds: Send me everything. Article links, Trevor's staff listing, Maya's writing analysis. I'll cross-reference with the existing conspiracy filing.

Then a second message:

This might be enough for a RICO-adjacent coordination charge. Multiple parties, multiple channels, single orchestrating figure. If I can document the financial connections between Aiden and Trevor, this goes from harassment to organized criminal conspiracy.

I show Maya the text. Her expression shifts from anger to something more like satisfaction.

"He thought he was invisible," she says.

"He was. Until he used someone sloppy."

I think about Landon's words from weeks ago—Aiden collects allies the way other people collect business cards. Quietly, strategically, always with leverage attached.

"But leverage works both ways. Trevor's public role at CelebGossip is a loose thread. Once we pull it, the whole thing unravels."

"What do we do with this?"

"We give it to Landon. Let him add it to the conspiracy filing. And then…" I look at the wall where Mia's drawing hangs, the misspelled foundation name surrounded by stick figures holding hands. "Then we let Aiden's own network testify against him."

After Maya leaves, I sit alone in the conference room. Through the glass, I can see Rachel's crew filming B-roll of our childcare program—toddlers in the play area, parents meeting with case workers, the daily machinery of an organization that keeps running despite everything being thrown at it.

Three channels, three pawns, one shadow. But shadows can't survive once you turn on the lights.

I open the evidence folder on my laptop. Create a new document, type the header:

NETWORK ANALYSIS: Aiden Wolfe — Coordinated Campaign

Channel 1: Trevor Marsh (external narrative — gossip media) Channel 2: Vivienne Vance (public narrative — abuse allegations) Channel 3: Marcus Whitmore (internal sabotage — board manipulation)

Connecting figure: Aiden Wolfe (no official role, no documented authority, no direct fingerprints)

Until now.

I save the document, encrypt it, and forward it to Landon.

Then I go back to the documentary filming. Smile for Rachel's cameras. Greet families who need us. Do the work that matters while the case against the man trying to destroy it builds itself from his own mistakes.

Aiden built his network to be invisible. But he forgot the first rule of shadow operations—you're only invisible until one of your people steps into the light.

And Trevor just did.