My Boss, My Babydaddy

Chapter 83

Zayden’s POV

The PR strategist is mid-sentence about damage control optics when my phone vibrates.

Jocelyn's text is three words: ‘We need to talk. ASAP.’

I'm out of my chair before the strategist finishes her thought about "reframing the narrative through community engagement."

"We'll continue this later," I say, already moving toward the door.

"But we haven't discussed the timeline for—"

"Later." The word comes out harder than intended, but I don't slow down.

Maya catches my arm in the hallway. "Everything okay?"

"No." I don't elaborate, just keep walking toward Jocelyn's office.

She's standing at her window when I enter, arms wrapped around herself in that particular way that means she's holding herself together through sheer force of will.

"What happened?" I close the door, engaging the privacy lock.

"Aiden cornered me in the printer alcove." Her voice is steady, but I can see the tremor in her shoulders. "He touched me, grabbed my elbow when I tried to leave."

The rage is immediate, white-hot, the kind that makes my vision narrow and my hands clench into fists.

"He put his hands on you."

"Yes." She turns from the window. "And when I told him not to touch me, he called it dramatics. Said I was being reactive, seeing threats where there weren't any."

Classic predator tactics. Violate boundaries, then gaslight the victim about their reasonable response.

"Where is he now?"

"Zayden." She crosses to me, hands on my chest. "Listen to me. You cannot go find him and lose your temper. That's exactly what he wants."

"He assaulted you in our building."

"He touched my elbow in a way that could technically be explained as friendly colleague contact." Her words are precise, legal. "That's the problem. It was calculated to be ambiguous enough that if I report it, I look paranoid. If you confront him, you look volatile."

She's right, and I hate that she's right.

"What else?" I ask, because I can tell there's more.

Jocelyn's hand moves to her stomach, protective. "He knows about the pregnancy. I don't know how, but he does. He made multiple comments about physical strain, about working for two, about the early stages being dangerous."

The rage crystallizes into something colder, more focused.

"He threatened you."

"Implied threats. Nothing explicit enough to be actionable." She meets my eyes. "But yes. He was letting me know that he knows, and that he could use it against us whenever he chooses."

I pull out my phone, already scrolling to David's contact. Our head of security needs to know about this immediately.

"Wait." Jocelyn catches my wrist. "Before you do anything, before you revoke his access or confront him or make any moves that could be interpreted as retaliation, we need a plan."

"A plan."

"A security plan. Documentation. Witnesses. Something that makes this about workplace safety and professional boundaries, not about you protecting your wife from your half-brother who keeps walking into this building like he owns it because Marcus holds the door open for him."

The distinction matters. I can see that even through the anger.

"If I go after him now…"

"It feeds into Vivienne's narrative." Jocelyn finishes my thought. "Volatile man who can't control his temper, who uses his power to punish people who threaten him. The media would love it."

She's thinking three steps ahead while I'm still stuck on the image of Aiden's hand on her arm.

"So what do you suggest?"

"Security audit. Immediate. Citing increased media attention and safety concerns for all staff members."

She's already working it out, I can see the strategy forming.

"Update badge access protocols, implement escort requirements for isolated areas, install additional cameras in blind spots like printer alcoves."

"That still leaves Aiden with building access."

"For now. But once the new protocols are in place, we have legitimate grounds to restrict his access based on policy violations rather than personal conflict."

I want to bypass all of this. Want to find Aiden and make it very clear what happens to people who touch my wife and threaten my unborn child.

But Jocelyn's watching me with those eyes that see through every defensive instinct, every protective impulse, straight to the truth underneath.

"You need me to be smart about this instead of satisfying," I say.

"I need us both to be smart about this." Her hands frame my face. "Because he's not just threatening me. He's setting a trap, wants you to react emotionally so he can use it against us. Against the foundation."

She's right. Of course she's right.

I pull her close, feeling her heartbeat against my chest, and force myself to think strategically instead of reactively.

"Security audit today," I say. "David implements new protocols by the end of week. That gives us cover for the badge restrictions."

"And Aiden's access?"

I pull back enough to look at her. "I can revoke his internal permissions without making it public. No more access to the executive floor, no more override codes for private offices, no more ability to move through the building unsupervised."

"Can you do that without board approval?"

"Security protocols fall under executive authority during crisis periods." I'm already mentally drafting the memo. "And we're definitely in a crisis period."

Jocelyn nods slowly. "What about the pregnancy? If he knows…"

"Then we control how that information comes out." My hand covers hers where it rests on my chest. "We announce it ourselves. Soon, before he can weaponize it."

"In the middle of Vivienne's allegations? That'll look—"

"Like our private life continuing despite public attacks."

I've thought about this, turned it over from every angle during sleepless nights.

"We announce it as fact, not defense. No justification, no explanation. Just: we're expecting, this is joyful news for our family, and it doesn't change our commitment to the foundation's mission."

"People will still make it about Vivienne's miscarriage story."

"Let them. We can't control the narrative completely, but we can refuse to let them dictate when we share our own news."

She's quiet for a moment, processing. Then: "Okay. But security first, so as badge restrictions. Then we figure out the pregnancy announcement."

"Agreed."

I kiss her forehead, then step back and pull out my phone.

David answers immediately. "What do you need?"

"Full security audit. Today. I want cameras installed in every blind spot, badge access updated to require escort verification in isolated areas, and a complete review of who has override permissions."

"Something specific happen?"

"Board member violated staff boundaries. We're implementing preventative measures."

"Understood. I can have preliminary recommendations by five."

"Make it four."

I end the call and open the building's security system on my phone. The admin interface loads, showing all active badge permissions and access levels.

Aiden's profile appears with unrestricted access—executive floors, private offices, after-hours entry, override codes for locked areas.

I start revoking them one by one.

Executive floor access: revoked.

Private office override: revoked.

After-hours entry: revoked.

Conference room seven where board meetings happen: retained, but flagged for escort requirement.

Each click feels satisfying in a way that physical confrontation wouldn't be. This is surgical. Precise. The kind of power move that doesn't announce itself with drama but absolutely shifts the playing field.

"He'll know something changed when his badge stops working," Jocelyn says, watching over my shoulder.

"Good. Let him wonder why. Let him try to escalate it through official channels and discover that security protocols during crisis periods are at executive discretion."

"He could go to the other board members."

"And say what? That he's upset about enhanced security measures implemented for everyone's safety?" I finish the last revocation and close the app. "He'd have to explain why he needs unrestricted access to areas where he has no legitimate business being."

Jocelyn leans against my arm. "You're scary when you're strategic."

"I'm effective when I'm strategic." I correct her. "Scary is what I want to be when I finally get Aiden in a room and make it very clear what happens if he touches you again."

"Zayden…"

"I know. Not yet. Not until we have everything documented and locked down." I turn to face her fully. "But eventually, there will be a conversation. And he will understand exactly where the line is and what crossing it costs."

She doesn't argue. Just nods, accepting that some things can be delayed but not prevented.

My phone buzzes. David: ‘Security team mobilizing. Cameras ordered. New protocols drafted for your review by 4pm.’

Progress. Measurable, documentable progress.

Aiden violated boundaries, made threats, tried to intimidate my wife into silence.

He won't find me explosive or reactive.

He'll find me methodical.

And that's so much worse.