My Boss, My Babydaddy

Chapter 63

Jocelyn’s POV

By Monday morning, the nightmare feels like a bruise I can't stop pressing—tender but fading.

I shower, dress, pour coffee into the travel mug Zayden always leaves out for me, and drive to the foundation like a woman whose subconscious didn't just spend the weekend inventing Italian mobsters.

The woman sitting across from me has that polished media executive look—perfect blowout, tailored blazer, smile that's been professionally calibrated to inspire trust without promising anything.

"Meridian Media Productions has been following the Wolfe-Hartwell Foundation's work for eighteen months," Rachel Brennan says, sliding a tablet across the conference table. "Your story is exactly what we look for. Redemption, transformation, real impact."

I glance at the proposal on screen. ‘From Empire to Empathy: The Wolfe-Hartwell Story.’ A feature-length documentary. Theatrical release consideration. Potential streaming deal.

Maya's sitting beside me, already three pages deep into the contract. Zayden's on my other side, perfectly still in that way that means he's calculating risks.

"Our audience responds to authenticity," Rachel continues. "The foundation's success is remarkable, but what makes it compelling is your journey. Single mother fighting to save her daughter. CEO who walked away from billions to build something meaningful. It's powerful stuff."

"It's also private stuff," I say carefully.

"Which is why we'd have full editorial approval in your contract." She taps the tablet. "Nothing airs without your sign-off. We're not interested in exploitation—we want to showcase the work you're doing."

Landon clears his throat from the end of the table. Zayden's former business partner turned foundation board member—one of the few people who knew about Zayden's obsession with a masked woman years before I walked back into his life.

He transitioned from corporate strategy to media relations when we launched the foundation, which means he knows exactly how coverage can detonate in your face.

"Can we have the room?" he asks Rachel politely.

She reads the situation immediately. "Of course. I'll wait outside."

Once she's gone, Landon leans forward. "This is a big opportunity. Documentary features generate serious donor interest. We're talking potential millions in funding."

"But?" Zayden prompts.

"But they're going to dig into everything." Landon's expression is serious. "Harrison's scandals, the corporate corruption charges, the legal battles. All of it will be scrutinized, reexamined, packaged for maximum dramatic impact."

My stomach tightens. We've worked so hard to move past that chapter, to be known for what we're building instead of what we escaped.

"How deep will they go?" I ask.

"As deep as it takes to make compelling television."

Landon pulls up something on his laptop.

"I did some research on Meridian's previous documentaries. They're good—ethical, thorough. But thorough means interviewing former Wolfe Industries executives. Digging through court records. Possibly tracking down people from Harrison's organization who might have... opinions."

"About me," Zayden says flatly.

"About both of you." Landon looks at me. "They'll want your side of the story—why you didn't tell Zayden about Mia, why you came back, how you reconciled your daughter's father being complicit in his father's corruption."

The words hang heavy. We've talked through all of this in therapy, in late-night conversations, in the privacy of our marriage. But having it dissected for public consumption?

"What's your recommendation?" Maya asks.

"Strategically? It's brilliant." Landon ticks off points on his fingers. "Major media exposure, donor cultivation, public awareness of the foundation's mission. You'd reach millions of potential supporters."

"And personally?" I press.

He hesitates.

"Personally, I think you need to decide if you're ready for the world to have opinions about your trauma. Because they will. They'll debate whether Jocelyn should have told Zayden about Mia sooner. They'll argue about whether Zayden's reformation is genuine or performative."

Zayden's hand finds mine under the table. "We don't need this," he says quietly. "The foundation's doing fine without documentary coverage."

"Fine isn't transformative," Maya counters. "We're serving eight hundred families. With this kind of exposure, we could triple that. The Medical Family Support Initiative alone could expand to ten cities instead of three."

She's right, I know she's right. But the cost...

"Can I see the court records section?" I ask Landon.

He pulls it up. Lists of documents Meridian would likely access: Harrison Wolfe's indictment, the civil suits from defrauded investors, depositions from Zayden's time as CEO.

My chest constricts reading through it. We lived through this once. Do we want to live through it again with cameras rolling?

"How much control do we actually have?" Zayden asks, reading over my shoulder.

"Editorial approval means they can't air anything you veto," Landon explains. "But you can't stop them from filming certain angles or asking hard questions. You can only control what makes the final cut."

"So we'd have to relive everything during filming, then decide afterward what the public gets to see," I summarize.

"Essentially, yes."

Silence settles over the conference room. Through the glass walls, I can see Rachel checking her phone, waiting patiently for our decision.

"I need to think about Mia," I say finally. "She's eight, old enough to understand if kids at school start talking about what they saw in a documentary about her parents."

"She's also cancer-free and healthy because of experimental treatments we could barely afford," Maya points out gently. "This documentary could fund that same treatment for hundreds of other kids."

Fuck. She's playing the guilt card and it's working.

"What does your gut say?" Zayden asks me, ignoring everyone else.

I close my eyes, trying to separate fear from wisdom. Yes, the scrutiny will be brutal. Yes, people will judge our choices. Yes, old wounds will be reopened and displayed.

But how many families could we help with the exposure? How many mothers wouldn't have to choose between their jobs and their sick children? How many kids could get the care Mia received?

"My gut says the foundation's mission is bigger than our privacy," I admit. "But my heart says I'm terrified of the world dissecting our lives."

"Both are valid," Zayden says. "Question is which one we let win."

Maya slides the contract closer. "We don't have to decide today. Rachel said they're flexible on timelines."

"But the opportunity won't wait forever," Landon adds. "Meridian's already scouting other stories. If we pass, they'll move on."

I look at Zayden. This man who walked away from billions, who chose our messy, complicated family over empire. Who still flinches sometimes when Harrison's name comes up in conversation.

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

He's quiet for a long moment, jaw working. "I want to protect you and Mia from every ugly thing the world wants to throw at us."

"But?"

"But I also know that's not how we built this foundation. We built it by being honest about our damage and using it to help others." He squeezes my hand. "If our story—all of it, even the ugly parts—can fund care for families who are where we used to be..."

He doesn't finish, but he doesn't need to.

"We should do it," I hear myself say.

Maya's eyebrows rise. "You're sure?"

"No. But I'm willing." I turn to Landon. "What safeguards can we build into the contract?"

He's already typing. "Editorial approval is standard. We can also require psychiatric evaluation of any minor participants."

"Mia doesn't get interviewed," Zayden says immediately. "Non-negotiable."

"Agreed," I say. "She can appear in B-roll of family life, but no sit-down questions about her cancer or our history."

"I'll add that." Landon makes notes. "What about former Wolfe Industries employees?"

Zayden's jaw tightens. "They can say whatever they want. I can't control that, but I want approval over how their statements are edited and contextualized."

"Done. Timeline restrictions?"

"Nothing airs until after Mia's nine-year checkup," I say firmly. "I won't have cancer reminders following her if something goes wrong."

Landon adds it to the list. "This is good. Strong protections, clear boundaries."

"Call Rachel back in," Zayden says. "Let's negotiate."

As Maya goes to get her, I lean into Zayden. "We're really doing this."

"Yes," he confirms. "Together."

Rachel returns, and we spend the next ninety minutes hammering out details. By the end, we have a contract that protects Mia, gives us editorial control, and commits Meridian to authentic storytelling over sensationalism.

I sign first, then Zayden. Maya witnesses.

"To transparency," Rachel says, shaking our hands. "And to helping families who need it."

After she leaves, I slump in my chair. "Did we just make a huge mistake?"

"Possibly," Zayden says. "Or we just gave the foundation the biggest platform it's ever had."

"Both can be true."

He pulls me up, into his arms. "Whatever happens, we face it like we face everything else."

"Together."

"Exactly."