Updated Nov 20, 2025 • ~11 min read
The call from my father comes while I’m on the floor building blocks with Miles.
I’ve been ignoring him for twenty-four hours. That’s apparently my limit before he escalates from calls to showing up in person.
Cora answers the door, and I hear her say, “Yeah, he’s here. Fair warning: I don’t like you.”
My father’s voice, clipped and cold: “Noted.”
Then he’s in the living room, Atticus Blackwood in full commanding mode. Expensive suit, expression like granite, the kind of presence that makes board rooms go silent.
Miles looks up from his blocks, unfazed. “Hi!”
My father stops. Stares. I watch him take in the dark curly hair, the hazel eyes, the unmistakable Blackwood features in miniature.
“This is Miles,” I say, still on the floor. “Your grandson. Miles, this is your grandfather.”
“Gampa!” Miles attempts, then goes back to his blocks.
For once, my father seems at a loss for words.
Emilia appears from the kitchen, and I see her shoulders go rigid. This is the man who orchestrated our breakup, who pushed me toward Sloane, who valued a merger over his son’s happiness.
“Mr. Blackwood,” she says coolly.
“Miss Rodriguez.” His tone is equally frosty. “We need to speak. All of us.”
“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Emilia,” I tell him.
His jaw tightens, but he nods. Cora brings additional chairs from the kitchen—she’s not leaving either, and honestly, I’m grateful for the backup.
My father sits with the air of a king granting an audience in a peasant’s cottage. It sets my teeth on edge.
“Yesterday,” he begins, “you destroyed a multi-million dollar merger, publicly humiliated the Covington family, and created a media scandal that’s cost us incalculable reputation damage.”
“Yesterday I found out I have a son,” I counter. “That’s all that matters.”
“That child—”
“Miles. His name is Miles.”
A pause. “Miles is a Blackwood heir. Which means this situation needs to be handled properly.”
I don’t like where this is going. “What do you mean, ‘handled’?”
“I’ve spoken with our legal team. Given that Miss Rodriguez kept the child’s existence secret for two years, there are grounds to challenge her custody. We can petition for full custody, citing—”
“Absolutely not.” I stand, putting myself between my father and my son. “We’re not taking Miles from Emilia.”
“She hid him from you. From this family. That’s parental alienation—”
“That’s a mother protecting her child from a family that would have tried to control his entire life!” My voice rises. Miles looks up, startled. I force myself to breathe, to calm down. “I’m not doing this. I’m not turning my son into a pawn in some legal battle.”
“Asher, be reasonable. The child needs stability, resources, proper education—”
“He has stability. With his mother, who’s been raising him for two years while I was off planning the wrong wedding.”
Emilia is watching this exchange with wide eyes. I can see the fear there—the same fear she articulated yesterday. That my family would use their wealth and power to take Miles from her.
Over my dead body.
“The board is concerned,” my father continues, changing tactics. “A child born out of wedlock, hidden from the family, suddenly appearing at your wedding—it raises questions about your judgment.”
“My judgment was fine when I was marrying Sloane for a merger you arranged.”
“That was business.”
“Exactly! That was business. This is my life. My son. My family.” I move closer to him. “And I’m done letting you dictate my choices.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Surprise? Anger? I can’t tell.
“What about the company?” he asks. “Your position as heir? If you refuse to act in the family’s best interests—”
“Then maybe I don’t want to be heir.”
The words hang in the air. Emilia’s sharp intake of breath. Cora’s whispered “holy shit.” My father’s face going absolutely rigid.
“You don’t mean that,” he says finally.
“Don’t I?” I look at Miles, playing happily, oblivious to the battle being waged over his existence. “Two days ago, I would have done anything to be CEO. Would have married someone I didn’t love, lived a life I didn’t want, all for the Blackwood legacy. But that was before I knew I had a son. Before I understood what actually matters.”
“The company is your birthright.”
“Miles is my son. That’s the only birthright that matters now.”
My father stands, and for a moment, he looks old. Tired. Less like the titan of industry and more like a man who’s losing his grip on the future he planned.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says.
“Maybe. But it’s my mistake to make.”
He moves toward the door, then stops. Turns back. His eyes find Miles again, and something in his expression shifts. Softens, just slightly.
“He does look like you,” he admits quietly. “Like you did at that age.”
“Yeah. He does.”
“I’m not the enemy here, Asher. I’m trying to protect this family.”
“By threatening to take my son from his mother? That’s not protection, Dad. That’s control. And I’m done being controlled.”
He nods once. Then, to my complete shock, he addresses Emilia directly.
“Miss Rodriguez. I apologize for suggesting we challenge your custody. That was… inappropriate.”
Emilia blinks, clearly as stunned as I am. “Okay.”
“However, I do hope we can come to some arrangement. For the child’s sake. He is a Blackwood, and he deserves access to the resources that entails.”
“He has a mother who loves him,” Emilia says, her voice steady despite the way her hands are shaking. “That’s the most important resource.”
“Of course.” My father actually looks chastened. “I simply meant—there are trusts that should be established. Educational funds. The family lawyer should be consulted to ensure proper arrangements.”
“I’ve already hired a lawyer,” I tell him. “We’re handling it.”
“Your mother will want to meet him. Properly, I mean. Not in the chaos of yesterday.”
“That’s up to Emilia.”
Both men turn to look at her. She’s pale but determined.
“I need time,” she says. “This is all happening very fast. I need to process, to figure out what’s best for Miles. But—” She looks at my father directly. “But I’m not interested in keeping Miles from his family. As long as that family respects my role as his mother.”
“Fair enough.” My father nods. Then, awkwardly, he looks down at Miles. “Goodbye, Miles.”
“Bye bye!” Miles waves cheerfully.
I walk my father to the door. Before he leaves, he grabs my arm.
“I pushed you too hard,” he says quietly. “With Sloane, with the merger. Your mother tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. I thought I was preparing you for leadership. Instead I—” He stops. “I’m sorry. For that.”
It’s the first time I can remember my father apologizing. For anything.
“Thank you,” I manage.
“But Asher? The company still needs you. I hope you’ll reconsider your position. You can be a father and the CEO. Men do it all the time.”
“Maybe. But right now, I’m just trying to be a father. The rest can wait.”
He nods and leaves. I close the door and lean against it, feeling like I just survived a hurricane.
When I return to the living room, Emilia is sitting on the floor with Miles, her arms wrapped around him protectively.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I had no idea he’d show up here, or that he’d threaten custody—”
“You stood up to him.” She looks at me with something like wonder. “Two years ago, you couldn’t tell him no. But just now, you did.”
“He threatened to take our son. Of course I stood up to him.”
“Still. That took guts.” She pauses. “Did you mean it? About giving up being heir?”
Did I? Twenty-four hours ago, the idea would have been unthinkable. The Blackwood company has been my destiny since birth. Everything I’ve done, every choice I’ve made, has been building toward that role.
But looking at Miles, watching him play with his blocks, completely unconcerned with mergers and legacies and corporate empires…
“Yeah,” I say. “I meant it. Or at least, I’m willing to mean it. If it comes down to choosing between the company and being Miles’ father? I choose Miles. Every time.”
Cora, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet during all this, speaks up. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That was kind of badass.”
“Kind of?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t push it. You’re still on probation.” But she’s almost smiling.
Emilia stands, brushing off her jeans. “I’ve been thinking about your offer. The house outside the city.”
My heart kicks up. “Yeah?”
“If—and this is a big if—we do this, I need ground rules. Separate bedrooms. This isn’t about us getting back together. It’s about figuring out co-parenting.”
“Agreed.”
“And if at any point I feel uncomfortable, or if Miles seems unhappy, we come back. Immediately. No arguments.”
“Done.”
“And Cora and Autumn get the address. They can visit whenever.”
“Of course.”
She takes a breath. “Okay. Then yes. We’ll try a few days. See how it goes.”
Relief and something deeper—hope?—floods through me. “Really?”
“Really. But Asher?” Her eyes meet mine, serious and still wounded. “This doesn’t fix anything between us. This is just—it’s for Miles. To give him a chance to know his father without the whole world watching. That’s it.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. You don’t trust me. I have to earn that back. I get it.” I move closer. “But I will earn it back, Emilia. I promise you that.”
“We’ll see.”
Miles toddles over, holding up his elephant. “Eph go bye-bye?”
“Yeah, buddy,” I tell him. “Eph is going on an adventure. With you and Mama and Dada.”
“Venture!” He’s delighted by the word, even if he doesn’t fully understand it.
Emilia starts making a mental list out loud. “I need to pack for Miles—diapers, clothes, his other toys. Call the coffee shop and tell them I need a few days off. Figure out what to tell people—”
“Tell them you’re taking care of family business,” Cora suggests. “It’s not even a lie.”
“And I need to call Autumn, make sure she’s okay with—”
“Already texted her,” Cora holds up her phone. “She says, and I quote, ‘GET IT GIRL. But also be safe. But also maybe bang the hot dad. But also protect your heart.'”
Emilia’s face goes red. “Oh my God.”
“She’s not wrong though,” Cora continues, enjoying her sister’s embarrassment. “He is hot. I mean, I hate him on principle, but objectively—”
“Cora!”
I’m trying very hard not to smile. Failing.
Two hours later, we’re packed. Miles’ car seat is transferred to my car—a Tesla I had delivered to pick us up because my usual driver felt too conspicuous. Emilia has two bags of Miles’ things and one small duffle for herself.
“Travel light?” I observe.
“I’ve learned to pack efficiently. When you’re living on a budget, you don’t accumulate much stuff.”
The reminder of how differently we’ve been living—me in penthouses, her scraping by—hits hard.
“That’s going to change,” I say. “The budget thing. I’m setting up a trust for Miles, but also child support, and—”
“We can talk about that later.” She’s not ready for that conversation. Fair enough.
We buckle Miles into his seat. He’s excited about the “big car,” chattering about “venture” and “Dada car.”
Emilia slides into the passenger seat, looking nervous.
“Last chance to change your mind,” I tell her.
“Don’t tempt me.”
I pull out into traffic, heading for the highway that will take us north, away from the city, away from the cameras and the chaos.
Toward what, I’m not sure.
But for the first time in two years, I’m driving toward something I actually want. Something real.
A chance to be a father.
A chance to prove I’m not the coward who walked away.
And maybe—maybe—a chance to earn back the woman I never should have lost.
In the rearview mirror, I see Miles already falling asleep, elephant clutched to his chest.
Beside me, Emilia is silent, watching the city disappear behind us.
Neither of us knows what we’re driving into.
But at least we’re driving there together.
And for now, that’s enough.
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