Dylan nods to the camerawoman, who lowers her main camera and steps outside.
“What’s up?” he asks, dropping into the chair across from me.
I slide the folder toward him. “This just landed on my desk.”
He skims the contents, his eyebrows rising progressively. “Whoa. This is complicated.”
“You think?” I run a hand through my hair. “Dylan, I need to know what we’re doing with footage like this. This is sensitive material.”
“It’s incredible content,” he counters, the filmmaker in him instantly recognizing the narrative value. “The personal and professional collision is exactly what made me want to film you two in the first place. That night in Vegas, I saw something special between you and Lucas. And now this, well, it’s the ultimate test of a power couple.”
His genuine belief in our love story would be touching if it weren’t so problematic right now.
Dylan studies me. “Have you told Lucas yet?”
“It just came in,” I say, avoiding the real question.
“But you’re going to tell him,” Dylan presses.
I stand and move to the window overlooking the city. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across downtown Los Angeles. Outside, the world continues with its normal rhythm, while mine feels suddenly off-kilter.
“It’s complicated.” I close my eyes briefly, remembering. “I promised Lucas that I wouldn’t dig into his father. That his family was off-limits unless he gave me permission.”
“But this came to you,” Dylan points out. “You didn’t go looking for it.”
“Do you think that distinction will matter to him?” The question comes out more with vulnerability than I intended.
Dylan leans forward. “Listen, Jess. Lucas loves you. He understands who you are.”
His words hit uncomfortably close to the truth I’ve been avoiding.
“Which is why this is so hard,” I admit. “If this were any other subject, any other story, I wouldn’t hesitate. But this is Lucas’s father, and no matter how complicated their relationship is, this will hurt him.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
I return to my chair and sink back into it. “I need to verify the claims first. Check Martin’s background and employment records, see if there’s a pattern of behavior.”
“And then?”
I stare at the folder, torn. “I don’t know. Journalistically, I have an obligation to pursue this story. But personally…”
“You’re worried about Lucas’s reaction,” Dylan finishes for me.
“Wouldn’t you be?” I challenge. “This isn’t just any story. This is his family.”
Dylan taps the folder thoughtfully. “Maybe wait until you have more information. Know exactly what you’re dealing with before you bring it to him.”
I nod, relieved that someone else is articulating the same instinct I’m feeling. “I need to be absolutely certain before I drop this on him. The allegations could be exaggerated or politically motivated.”
“But if they’re legitimate?” Dylan presses.
“Then I’ll tell him,” I say, though my stomach twists at the thought. “But I need facts first, not just allegations. I owe him that much.”
Then I ask, “What about the doc footage? If this becomes a story, I don’t want our personal reaction breaking on screen before we’ve dealt with it privately.”
“We’ll be careful with it,” Dylan assures me. “This is sensitive material. I’m not looking to ambush either of you.”
I narrow my eyes. “You say that, but I know that filmmaker instinct of yours, Dylan. The drama of it all must be irresistible.”
