Updated Dec 2, 2025 • ~9 min read
Knox was assembling the crib—a task that should have required an engineering degree—when Julia’s phone rang.
“It’s my father,” she said, looking at the screen like it might bite her. “I should take this.”
She disappeared into the hallway, leaving Knox with the instruction manual and approximately seventy-three small wooden pieces. Through the crack in the door, he could hear fragments of conversation.
“Yes, I’m feeling fine… No, I haven’t reconsidered… Dad, we’ve talked about this…”
Knox tried to focus on finding piece 23A, but his attention kept drifting to Julia’s increasingly tense voice.
“That’s not fair… I don’t need your permission… He’s not like that… Dad, please…”
The call ended abruptly. When Julia returned to the nursery, her expression was carefully neutral, but Knox could see the tension in her shoulders.
“Everything okay?”
“My father’s coming home early from his business trip. He wants to have dinner. Meet you.” Julia sat on the edge of the rocking chair they’d assembled yesterday. “I’m sorry. I know I should have told him about you sooner, but he’s been traveling and I was putting it off because I knew he’d—”
“Disapprove?”
“Interrogate. Background check. Possibly hire a private investigator.” Julia tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He’s very protective. Especially now, with the baby.”
Knox set down the crib piece he’d been holding. “Do you want me to meet him?”
“Do you want to meet him? Because I can stall. Tell him you’re busy. It’s not too late to run away screaming.”
“I’m not running.”
Julia looked at him then, really looked at him. “You’re sure? Because Brian Adams is… a lot. He’s going to ask invasive questions about your finances, your intentions, your entire life history. It’s not going to be pleasant.”
“I can handle unpleasant.”
“Can you handle a billionaire who thinks no one is good enough for his daughter? Who’s probably already started investigating you?”
Knox’s stomach dropped. “Investigating?”
“He has people. Contacts. If he wants to know something about someone, he finds out.” Julia stood, pacing the small nursery. “I should call him back. Tell him this isn’t a good time. That we’re not ready.”
“Julia.” Knox caught her hand, pulling her to a stop. “It’s okay. I want to meet your father. If he’s important to you, then meeting him is important to me.”
“Even if he’s completely unreasonable and potentially threatening?”
“Even then.”
Julia studied his face for a long moment. “Why are you so calm about this? Most people would be freaking out.”
Because I’m already living with a much bigger secret, Knox thought. Because a background check is the least of my worries.
“Because I love you,” he said instead. “And sometimes love means having awkward dinners with disapproving fathers.”
Julia kissed him—quick and grateful. “Thursday night. Seven o’clock at his place. Dress nice. And Knox? Whatever he says, whatever accusations he makes—he doesn’t speak for me. Remember that.”
Thursday arrived with aggressive inevitability.
Knox stood outside Brian Adams’s penthouse at 6:58 PM, wearing the one good suit he owned and trying not to throw up.
Aaron had called three times that day. “You don’t have to do this,” he’d said on the last call. “You can still cancel. Claim food poisoning.”
But Knox was already here, finger hovering over the buzzer.
This is a terrible idea, his brain supplied helpfully. A man with the resources to do deep background checks is the last person you want scrutinizing your life.
Knox rang the bell anyway.
The door opened to reveal Julia, stunning in a navy dress that made her pregnancy look elegant rather than obvious. “You came.”
“Of course I came.”
“I gave you an out. Multiple outs.”
“I don’t want an out. I want to meet your father.”
Julia pulled him into a quick kiss. “You’re insane. But I love you for it.”
She led him through an apartment that made her place look modest. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city. Art that Knox recognized from museums. Furniture that was probably individually insured.
And in the middle of it all, standing with a drink in hand and a expression that could freeze water, was Brian Adams.
He was exactly what Knox expected: late fifties, silver hair, expensive suit, the kind of presence that commanded rooms without effort. He looked at Knox the way someone might examine a questionable purchase—assessing value and finding it lacking.
“Mr. Adams,” Knox said, extending his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
Brian’s handshake was firm to the point of aggressive. “Knox Barrow. The artist.”
The way he said “artist” made it sound like “unemployed vagrant.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I looked at your work. Interesting use of color.” It didn’t sound like a compliment.
“Thank you.”
“My daughter tells me you’ve been spending quite a bit of time together.”
“Dad,” Julia warned.
“I’m just making conversation,” Brian said mildly, though his eyes never left Knox. “Shall we eat?”
Dinner was excruciating.
Brian sat at the head of the table, Julia on his right, Knox on his left. A private chef had prepared some kind of fancy fish that Knox was too nervous to properly taste.
“So, Knox,” Brian said, cutting his fish with surgical precision. “Tell me about your career. How does one make a living as an artist these days?”
“I sell pieces through galleries. Do commission work. Teach some classes.”
“And that’s sustainable?”
“It pays my bills.”
“What about a retirement plan? Health insurance? Any investments?”
“Dad,” Julia said sharply.
“These are reasonable questions. If you’re dating my daughter—my pregnant daughter—I think I’m entitled to know you can support yourself.”
“I can support myself just fine.”
“But can you support her? A baby?” Brian set down his fork. “I’m not trying to be difficult, Knox. I’m trying to understand what kind of future you’re offering my daughter.”
Knox felt his temper flaring. “With all due respect, sir, Julia doesn’t need me to support her. She’s perfectly capable of supporting herself.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point,” Brian said coldly, “is that my daughter is in a vulnerable position. She’s about to become a mother, which comes with challenges you clearly don’t understand. The last thing she needs is someone who can’t provide stability.”
“Knox provides plenty of stability,” Julia cut in, her voice tight. “He’s kind and present and actually cares about me as a person, not as a business asset.”
“Julia—”
“No. I’m not doing this. I’m not sitting here while you interrogate the man I love like he’s applying for a job.” Julia stood, her hand protective on her stomach. “Knox is a brilliant artist with a successful career. He makes me happy. That should be enough for you.”
Brian looked at his daughter, something like pain flickering across his face. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection. I need support. There’s a difference.”
The table fell silent. Knox sat there, caught between family dynamics he didn’t understand, feeling like an intruder.
Finally, Brian sighed. “Knox, would you give us a moment? Julia and I need to speak privately.”
Knox looked at Julia, who nodded reluctantly. He excused himself to the living room, close enough to hear raised voices but not specific words.
The argument lasted ten minutes.
When Julia emerged, her eyes were red but her expression was set. “We’re leaving.”
“Julia, wait—” Brian followed her out.
“No. You don’t get to ambush him like that. You don’t get to decide who I date based on their tax returns.”
“I’m your father. I’m allowed to be concerned about the man my daughter is seeing.”
“Concerned, yes. Cruel, no.” Julia grabbed Knox’s hand. “We’re done here.”
Knox let Julia pull him toward the door, but at the threshold, he turned back.
“Mr. Adams? I love your daughter. I’m not after her money or her name or any other reason you’ve probably already come up with. I’m just a guy who got incredibly lucky to meet an amazing woman. Whether you believe that or not is up to you, but it’s the truth.”
Brian stared at him for a long moment. “We’ll see.”
In the elevator, Julia let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. He’s usually not that bad. Well, he is, but not usually that quickly.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. He was completely out of line.”
Knox pulled Julia close, mindful of her stomach. “He loves you. He’s worried. I get it.”
“You’re being way too understanding about this.”
“One of us has to be.”
Julia laughed despite herself. “He’s going to investigate you. Probably already has people on it.”
Knox’s stomach tightened, but he kept his voice level. “Let him. He won’t find anything concerning.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
It wasn’t technically a lie. A standard background check wouldn’t find the fertility clinic records. The anonymity agreement was too airtight for that.
But as they left Brian Adams’s building and headed back to Julia’s apartment, Knox couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just made everything infinitely more complicated.
Because men like Brian Adams didn’t just run standard background checks.
They dug deeper.
And if Brian dug deep enough, if he had the right contacts, if he asked the right questions—
Knox pushed the thought away.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
The secret was safe.
It had to be.
Because the alternative was unthinkable.
That night, lying in Julia’s bed with her curled against his chest, Knox stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about billionaire fathers with unlimited resources.
Tried not to think about private investigators who specialized in digging up secrets.
Tried not to think about what would happen when—not if, but when—the truth came out.
Julia’s breathing had evened out into sleep, but Knox was wide awake, his mind racing through every possible scenario.
His phone lit up on the nightstand. A text from Aaron: How bad was it?
Knox: Bad. Her father’s investigating me.
Aaron: Can he find it? The donation records?
Knox: They’re sealed. Anonymous. He can’t find what doesn’t exist in any public database.
Aaron: You’re sure?
Knox stared at the message for a long time.
Knox: I have to be.
Because the alternative—that Brian Adams might somehow connect Knox to his daughter’s anonymous sperm donor—was too terrifying to contemplate.
Knox set down his phone and pulled Julia closer, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, feeling the baby kick gently against his stomach.
This was his family now. His life.
And he’d protect it from anyone—even Julia’s father.
Even if that meant protecting them from the truth.
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