Rosie POV
“What the actual fuck?”
That was the first thing I said when I opened my phone and saw the headline flashing across every major gossip page:
“Jane Ellis and Richard Ellis Reunite Over Lunch — Caught Smiling, Hugging at Diner”
I stared at the pictures in disbelief. Jane, sitting at some dingy little booth, her hands gripping a glass of water, looking shocked. And then—bam—Richard Ellis right beside her, arms around her like a proud father, his face all over the press, looking like the perfect family man.
I nearly threw my phone across the room.
“Of course,” I muttered, pacing back and forth in my office. “Of course she ran back to him.”
A knock on the door. My assistant peeked in, trying to offer me coffee.
“Leave it,” I snapped.
She vanished without another word.
I opened my phone again and stared at the pictures—blown up, reposted, filtered, and dissected on every blog and social media platform. And the comments? People were eating it up.
“ Look at Jane reconciling with her dad!”
“Such a sweet moment between father and daughter.”
“Maybe the Ellis-King rivalry is over!”
Bullshit.
I called Carter immediately. It rang three times before he finally answered.
“What is it, Rosie?” he said, his voice tired.
“Have you seen the pictures?”
“Yes.”
“And?” I demanded. “What do you have to say now?”
“She told me what happened,” he said. “She said it was a setup. Her father showed up out of nowhere. She tried to get him to back off, but he told her to smile or he’d come after me.”
I blinked, stunned for a second.
“And you believed her?”
“I know what kind of man Richard Ellis is,” Carter said calmly. “And Jane looked terrified in those pictures. That wasn’t a reunion. That was a threat.”
“Oh my God,” I muttered, throwing myself into my chair and laughing bitterly. “You are completely gone, Carter. She has you wrapped around her little finger.”
“She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t want this.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I snapped. “You’re in love with the enemy’s daughter. And now you’re making excuses for her being caught hugging the man who tried to destroy our father?”
Carter didn’t answer.
“Look, I’m not going to sit back and watch you ruin your life over some pregnant con artist,” I hissed. “And when she drags the King name through the dirt, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“You’ve made it clear how you feel, Rosie,” Carter said, his voice colder now. “But I’m not abandoning her. Or my child.”
I clenched my jaw.
“This isn’t over,” I said.
“I know,” he replied. Then he hung up.
I stared at my phone for a few seconds, heart racing, mind spinning.
He was in too deep.
If he couldn’t see what Jane was doing—how she was using her baby to secure her place in the King family—then I had to show him.
I couldn’t just sit back and wait.
No, I needed to act.
I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone again, and hit a contact I hadn’t used in weeks.
Emma Zidane.
She answered on the second ring.
“Well, well,” she purred. “If it isn’t my favorite control freak. What’s got you all fired up now?”
I didn’t even bother with small talk.
“Have you seen the pictures?”
“Of Jane and her daddy dearest? Yeah. The whole internet has. Why?”
“Because I’m done playing games, Emma,” I said flatly. “If Carter can’t open his eyes, I’ll open them for him.”
There was a pause. Then a low chuckle.
“Oh? What do you have in mind?”
“Come to my office,” I said. “Now.”
Emma made a satisfied sound. “I thought you’d never ask.”