21. Ellis

CHAPTER 21

ELLIS

I told the editing team that I would give them five times whatever their current budget was to get the show on the air as quickly as possible, and to my delight, they've absolutely delivered. It's amazing what flashing millions of dollars at people can do for their productivity.

That's why, a week and a half after filming wrapped, we're here in my office watching the very first edit of the show.

They've already started advertising, too; my face and Marina's have been plastered all over social media, and we look so good that Beautiful Baby is already starting to see spikes in its popularity.

It pains me to say it, but Priscilla was right. Taking part in the show has done miracles for sales.

The credits roll on the first episode, and everyone in the office applauds it, including me. It has been said before that I'm the kind of person who loves the sound of his own voice, and I have to say it's true.

I like the way I look, too. Cameras flatter me.

The producer smiles and unplugs her laptop from the screen. She turns to me and says, "So, Mr. Whitlock, I hope you're all happy with everything. I have to say, it's turned out great from where I'm sitting."

"Very happy," I say. "This is awesome. You know, I was really dubious about this, but you guys pulled it off. I'm impressed."

"I'll pass your compliments along to the team," she says with a gracious nod. "They've all worked their asses off this week to pull it together. We're making the final touch-up, but we'll be ready to air it before you know it."

"Can I give them a bonus?" I ask. "Can I give you a bonus? You're the one in charge, right?"

"That's up to you, sir. But yes, I suppose, as executive producer, you could say I am in charge." She says it with grace and diplomacy, but I can see behind her eyes that she very much would like a bonus.

"I'll see what I can do," I say, winking at her.

She raises an eyebrow at me as if to say haven't I just produced a show all about your marriage? but she doesn't comment any further.

I let the team linger around for a while, chatting among themselves. It's good to feel the sense of hype and energy in here. Too often, it's dreary and dull, and no one seems excited to be here. If only I could make every day feel like this.

The producer packs up her stuff and says goodbye. I pull out my phone and make a note to myself to see about tipping her, and the whole staff. They deserve it.

I stand up and gesture at the group. "All right, everyone," I say. "Back to work. Let's get Beautiful Baby flying off the metaphorical shelves."

Everyone nods and applauds again, then they start to file out of the meeting room. I sigh peacefully, watching them go, and sit back in my chair. They have to get back to work. It's what I pay them for. I can take a few more minutes, though.

That's when my phone buzzes.

I pull it out of my pocket and look at it. It's a message from Marina. Another one.

Hey! You up for doing something this week?

My fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard. It already feels like so long ago since we were together, and seeing her there on the screen today made me miss her more than I already did. Seeing her was just another knife in my chest. But I've been so busy this week that I've barely even had time to think about her.

I've remembered what the high of business success feels like, and I'm loving every second of it. I haven't felt this good since Beautiful Fitness was first a hit — and that was years ago now. That's why I was starting to feel washed-up, because nothing I've done since that has compared.

Nothing until this, anyway. Now I've got Beautiful Baby , I'm unstoppable. I'm on top of the world.

Unable to think of anything good to say, I put my phone back in my pocket and decide to answer later.

I sit for a moment longer, then get up and head back to my own office. I flop into my outrageously expensive and comfortable chair, shake my mouse to wake my computer back up, and immediately click on my emails to find that I have hundreds more unread now than I did when I left.

A whole bunch of them are spam, of course, but among the junk, there are great swathes of offers of partnerships and sponsors, of advertising deals and influencers who want to be part of it all.

Grinning, I skim through all the offers. Some of them are really good. Some of them are really bad.

I reply to a couple of the better ones, telling them that I would be happy to have their sponsorship on Beautiful Baby providing the price was right. I set up some meetings and redirect most of the wannabes to my HR office or to Priscilla, who will know exactly what to say to them.

More than anything, I feel very pleased with myself for all the progress we've been making. Just think… a month ago I was almost ready to write off Beautiful Baby altogether. For the first time in my life I was about to be an absolute failure, a fact that would haunt me to the grave.

Beautiful Baby is doing awesome and, even better, Beautiful Fitness has seen a spike in subscriptions too. Ellis Inc. is on the up and up.

I go to call my PA but then realize I still haven't hired anyone. I really have to get on that. What's the point of having all this money if I can't pay people to do menial tasks for me?

I make a note to resume interviewing ASAP, then call down to one of the women at reception and tell her to put together a luxurious gift basket for Priscilla.

"That'll be expensive, sir," she drawls, and I roll my eyes. There are two receptionists, and this must be the useless one.

"Yes," I say tersely, trying to hold my temper. "That's kind of the point."

Priscilla already knows how much I appreciate her, but I have standards to maintain. I'm known as a great employer, and I would like it to stay that way. Plus, she deserves gifts. This was all her idea. I need to make sure she knows how much I need her.

Once that's done, I open up some of my social media accounts. They say you're not supposed to read what people say about you, but I'm curious, and my skin is thick enough to take idiots online calling me nasty things. They're not real, anyway.

I'm delighted to see my name trending on all of the major sites. That means hundreds of thousands of people have engaged with the content and decided they care enough to write some stupid posts on the internet for nobody to look at.

Most intriguingly, people are speculating about when I got married, how I've kept a child secret for all this time. It makes me smile to see that the con has been so successful. There are people devastated that I'm taken, having seen me as a heartthrob — not that any of them would have had a chance with me. And there are people who are calling it all a scam — little do they know, they're right.

At the end of the day, none of it was real to me, so I don't really care what they say. As long as they say something .

None of it was real. Except the way I started to feel about Marina.

I keep scrolling, and chuckle to myself. Priscilla was right, of course. Looks like people really are falling for the lie. I'd like to think I wouldn't be so stupid, but I don't know. Maybe I would fall for it too.

It's almost weird to see people talking about my life like this, in a positive way. I'm so used to people decrying me as a complete ass, as someone who might be great at business, but you wouldn't want to be alone in a room with, but now people are fawning over me as a father, saying about how cute I look and how natural I am with Lila.

I think again about Marina and how she was so desperate to uncover a softer side of me. How she was so convinced there was a kinder man inside. And worst of all, she made me see that she was right. There is someone else inside me other than my reputation.

I pick up my phone to look at the message from her again. How do I possibly start replying to it after a week of no contact? I can't exactly do it like a business email: Hi Marina, hope you're well.

My desk phone rings, startling me. It's one of the potential sponsors getting back to me. I put my phone away and resolve to message Marina back later.

It's only late that night, when my eyes are closed to sleep, that I realize I never did.