Chapter 2 – Daughters

Ana

Tuesday, August 26, 2031

I'm seated at the head of the table in a conference room on the 5th floor. A young woman from the IT team takes the floor and talks about some of the patents that GEH currently has pending. I listen intently, gently smoothing out the creases in my lap of my gray wool skirt suit ensemble. Suddenly, my phone buzzes on the table. I quickly pick it up and view the screen.

It's my eldest daughter.

Phoebe G.
3:30p: When will you be home?

Uh oh. The tone of her text instantly alarms me.

Mom
3:31p: I can head home as soon as I'm done with this meeting.
Is everything okay?

Phoebe G.
3:31p: It's fine. I just need to talk to you about something.

Mom
3:32p: Sure, I can call you the second I get back to my office.

Phoebe G.
3:32p: I want to talk in person. Can you come home before Dad?

My eyes are agape. This doesn't sound good. Not one bit.

Mom
3:33p: Yes, I'll leave soon. You sure everything's fine?

Phoebe G.
3:33p: Yes mom, I swear. I just need to talk to you.

This is very un-Phoebe like. Normally, she just comes out and says whatever's bothering her.

Mom
3:33p: Ok sweetie. I'll see you shortly.

I wonder what's going on. Phoebe just began her junior year of high school this week. I'm certain that she's in the process of narrowing down her college choices from her previous list of six. With stellar grades like hers, the world is truly her oyster. Perhaps she needs my advice to help her make up her mind.

Perhaps she will follow after her brother's footsteps and attend Stanford – although he might be long gone by the time Phoebe enrolls there the year after next. This semester, Teddy's taking over 20 credit hours and plans on enrolling in summer courses in order to accelerate his degree.

It's great that my son is so driven and focused on doing well and finishing up his degree way ahead of schedule. However, I'm afraid that he'll get burnt out. I'd rather he take his time and graduate in four years along with his peers. Then he could come home during summers and do an internship at Grey House before returning back to campus.

On the flip side, Christian thinks that Teddy's accelerative strategy is a great plan, which will allow him to put Teddy to work at Grey House full-time sooner rather than later.

Two minutes after sending the last text message to Phoebe, I kindly adjourn the meeting and head up the elevator to the 20th floor. When the doors part open, a warm, familiar face that has made me feel at home for the past twenty years greets me from behind the limestone reception counter. The kind early-middle-aged blonde dressed in a navy blue pants suit illuminates the lobby with her perfectly white teeth.

"Ana!"

"Hi Andrea! I'm here to grab my things and head home a little bit earlier today. Where's Lola?"

"She's meeting with the auditors on the 18th floor to gather that data you needed."

"Oh, that's great. Please thank her for me for all of her hard work on this," I implore.

"Absolutely. Lola's kicking butt. I really appreciate her sharp mind and drive. I just hope that she doesn't have the desire to branch out into other opportunities anytime soon. I need her work ethic up here – at least until I retire. I'm the only PA who's remained with you and Mr. Grey for all these years," she chuckles. I laugh right along with her.

"Well Andrea, you know that Mr. Grey and I have always encouraged you to explore new horizons if you so choose."

"I know – I know. But I absolutely love my job here and can't see myself doing anything else. It's awesome to see how this company has grown since I've first begun. I've also witnessed how you and Mr. Grey have evolved and raised such wonderful children," Andrea beams.

I blush at her kind words. It's both embarrassing and heartwarming at the same time. All parents want to know that they are doing a good job. It's wonderful to hear it coming from the outside, not just from family members.

"Who knows – maybe I'll see one of the Grey offspring working here before I retire," she giggles.

"Or perhaps one of your children will work here. They are so well mannered. Christian and I look forward to having you and your family over to our house for dinner again soon," I say warmly.

"Absolutely. It's always wonderful to visit you two outside of work. Oh…by the way, I was thinking about Lacy. Have you heard from her lately?" Andrea inquires.

Good ol' Lacy Stevens-Lund. She's a really good friend of mine as well as a former GEH employee. She has since moved east with her family. I really miss her.

"Lacy is doing great in Chicago. I keep up with her on social media. Her kids are growing up so fast. My, how time has gone," I sigh.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Glad to hear that Lacy's doing well. I won't keep you, Ana…I know you need to head home," she says, smiling warmly.

"I'll see you again in a second on my way out," I beam as I head to my office.

I quickly pack my workbag and place it on the surface of my desk along with my purse. At a quarter 'til four, I knock twice on the adjoining office door (as I always do) and enter. I witness Christian meeting with Ros and two other male executives, sitting at a table located a distance away from Christian's desk. Christian and the two other men immediately rise to their feet. I shake my head and motion my hand downward, urging them to take their seats. Christian remains standing while the two gentlemen reclaim their chairs.

"Sweetheart?" Christian says to me with a sparks of concern fluttering in his eyes. He approaches me and I meet him the rest of the way.

"I'm heading home now to get the girls situated with homework so Gail is freed up to start dinner. Reach me on my mobile if you need anything," I say to my husband in front of company.

"Sure. I'll be home in time for dinner," he responds lovingly. We partially embrace and he plants a sweet kiss on my cheek. I tighten my lips, disguising a grin and pat him gently on his back before releasing him. Even after all these years, PDA at work will never cease to feel awkward. But still, I adore it when Christian does it.

"See you when you get home," I murmur.

"Have a good night, Ana," Ros calls out, and the two other execs echo her. I kindly tell them all that I will see them tomorrow.

As I enter my office to grab my things from my desk and head on my way, I quickly recall years ago when Christian would constantly work late nights at Grey House. Fortunately over the years, although he has remained focused on his business, he makes certain that he's home in time so we can all eat dinner each night as a family.

….

When I arrive home an hour and a half after leaving Grey House, I can barely remove my trench coat when the girls all bum-rush me in the main room.

"Mommy! Mommy!" the twins echo each other as they throw their arms around me. I embrace them in return, laughing at their twin-unified voices and their child-like enthusiasm. I hope that they will never grow out of it. Brie is wearing a knee-length skirt with a t-shirt and jean jacket. Beth is in jeans and a colorful t-shirt. Phoebe falls in afterwards, compounding the ball of Grey-girls embrace. She's wearing a fashionable overly washed gray long-sleeved shirt over a tank top and black jeans.

"Girls…hey!" I giggle; overwhelmed by the love I'm receiving from all three of them.

"Mom – quickly…let's go talk privately in your office," Phoebe says, taking control once Beth and Brie release me from their grasp. I flinch in surprise, while the twins look at each other with a discrete smirk.

What's this all about?

Before I can respond, Phoebe takes my coat and hands it over to Brie. Phoebe then takes my hand and leads me all the way to my study. She closes the door behind us. We both sit side by side on the nearby leather sofa facing the blank wall where the overhead projector would normally shine when it's powered on.

"So…I wanted to talk to you about something," she starts nervously.

For some reason, her nervousness has somehow transferred over to me.

"Sure, what is it?" I say, trying to remain composed on the outside.

"Do you remember Hanson Larkin?"

I narrow my eyes at her.
Hmm…Hanson.
Finally, a light bulb goes off.

Oh yeah…the kid who's mother named him after her favorite childhood boy band.
I chuckle to myself at the absurdity.

"He played on the high school baseball team with Teddy," I recall. When Teddy was in high school, he would have Hanson and some of the other boys from the team hang out and play video games here at the house.

"Yes. Hanson received a full scholarship to play ball at UW where he's now a freshman," she says with a prideful smile.

Oh no. Where is she going with this?

"Wow, that's great. So what about him?"

"Well…I've been keeping in touch with him over social media from time to time. He told me over the summer that he had a crush on me back when he was in high school. He's always wanted to ask me out, but um…"

My eyes gape wide at my beautiful teenage daughter. Of course boys want to ask her out. I mean – look at her. She's gorgeous and brilliant with tons of friends at school. Who wouldn't want to take her out?

"Well – Dad sort of freaks him out. He's heard stories about Dad being…strict. I assume it was Teddy who got that in his head. Anyway, Hanson asked me out on a date this Saturday. He wants to do pizza and a movie. I'd really like to go," she says earnestly. I beam at her.

"Oh, how sweet. I really like Hanson. He's a nice young man," I respond.

"He is," she says with stars in her eyes.

"So – you like him?" I ask.

"Yes…I do," she sparks, and it absolutely melts my heart.

"Since I know Hanson's family, I'm good with the two of you going out on Saturday night. You'll just need the okay from your father," I smile. Suddenly, Phoebe's spirit falls. I'm confused by her sudden change of mood.

"Well – I just figured that you'd say 'yes' and keep this between us. If it makes you feel any better, you can drop me off at the mall and I can meet Hanson there…"

"Phoebe – honey…you know that it doesn't work that way. We can't keep your father in the dark. I mean, why would you?" I say, perplexed.

"Mom." She narrows her eyes at me as if the answer's as clear as the day is long.

"What?" I say, confused by her reaction.

"You know he's going to want to take Hanson into his study, sit him down and ask him a million questions," she sighs, frustrated.

"You're over exaggerating, sweetie. Your father may ask Hanson a couple of questions, but that's it. He only wants to make sure that you're safe…that's all."

"We have a freaking bodyguard that follows us everywhere, Mom. I mean, how much more safe can we be?"

"Look – I know Hanson's parents from fundraisers and the like. Your father has even met them on occasion. I don't foresee your dad saying 'no.'"

My oldest daughter painfully shuts her eyes and shakes her head, appearing to feel deeply misunderstood.

"Mom…can you just drop me off at the mall? God…I don't want to scare Hanson away by sicking Mr. Christian Grey on him," she says, frustrated.

I sit and contemplate my daughter's sincere plea.

Christian has improved over the years. Yeah, he's still a bit overly protective…to put it mildly – when it comes to the children and me especially. But surely, Christian isn't as bad as he used to be.

I think back to when I first told Christian that I was pregnant with Teddy. The plan was to wait several years before even considering having children. Yet nine months into our marriage, we were parents. There was a time when I thought it was quite selfish of Christian to fear so badly having children shortly after we got married. I would later discover that his reasons for wanting to delay the inevitable were much more complicated than I even realized.

While I was pregnant, we would have to wait. And wait. And wait. Nine months seemed like an eternity, and Christian hated waiting. But there was something else that he hated even more than waiting.

Christian absolutely despised the loss of control. I found that out first hand in the worse possible way almost twenty years ago.

….

Tuesday, May 22, 2012
(Flashback)

I sit opposite my new husband at dinner at the table that we always sit at The Mile High Club – his club located up high in the Columbia Tower. Instead of partaking in the food on my plate, I gnaw nervously on one side of my lip. Such an action would normally have a sensual affect on Christian. Not tonight.

Since this afternoon, I haven't been myself. And like the uncanny mind reader that he is, Christian can spot that something's wrong with me from a mile away.

"I've remained quiet the entire way here, hoping that you would fess up to what's going on with you. You haven't said a word. We get here and order dinner – which you haven't even touched. So when are you going to stop lying to me, telling me that everything's okay? Something's wrong, and you need to tell me. You haven't been the same since you returned to work from lunch. Yet, I have a feeling that you didn't even bother to eat lunch today." He's stern in his delivery.

Shit, how does he know that? Christian just read me like a book. I get even more nervous. You're in public, Ana. This is great. You can tell him the news, and he can't yell at you in here.

I close my eyes. I silently mouth out the countdown: "Five, four, three, two, one."

With my eyes clench tightly, I quietly blurt it out.

"I'm pregnant."

I keep my eyes closed, in search for a sound…any sound. I don't hear a sigh, a rush of hot air…nothing. Soon, I gradually open up my eyes, and his gaze is dead on me. He looks like he just saw a ghost.

"What?" he says quietly.

Oh no.

"I'm six weeks pregnant. I…I saw Dr. Greene during my lunch break today. She…"

"H…how does that happen on the shot?" he gasps.

"Well, it was made apparent to me that I um, er…missed the last scheduled shot due to um…all of the wedding planning stuff…and um…meetings…and I…"

"You what?"

"Well normally the shot would've been strong enough to last even after being late for a dose by a week or two…or three, in my case. Apparently, the last shot wasn't as potent," I explain. He looks to be in a daze.

"You missed a shot?" he says, dumbfounded.

"Well, yes I did. That's what I just said. But the previous shot should have…"

He blinks his eyes several times and he lifts up a hand, halting my spiel mid sentence.

"You missed a shot. You. You missed a shot," he murmurs a furious growl. His gorgeous face begins to turn red.

Wow…I almost wish that he could just yell at me at the top of his lungs than see him behaving like this. Seeing him quietly angry with me is heart retching.

"Christian, are you actually mad at me?"

"I am not mad. I'm fucking furious. What you did was both careless and stupid. Forgetting your shot? I can't believe that you would do that. And I can't believe that you would wait and fucking tell me this…here," he snaps at me discretely.

"I was scared how you would react." I mean, isn't it obvious?

He closes his eyes and rubs his hand over them repeatedly. He no longer picks up his fork or his glass of wine. He simply motions his head back and forth in the palm of his hand like he's trying to ease a headache.

"Christian…it's going to be fine…"

"No. No. You don't get to say that. You have absolutely no right to say that."

My heart falls into my stomach. I can't believe what I'm hearing right now. This man…who has proclaimed to love me so much. The same man who professed such heartfelt vows to me a month and a half ago.

"I give you my solemn vow to honor, cherish, protect, and to preserve our union. Forsaking all others, I will remain by your side in good times and bad, through sickness and in health, and through whatever else may come our way.

"I promise to love you with an undying love, to remain faithful to you and only you, and to always be there to share in your triumphs and heartbreaks.

I always thought a husband and a wife in love bringing a child into this world was considered a 'triumph'. Just when I thought he eased up on his stance towards having children. After bringing home a dog to reconcile after the shitty way he treated me during the first pregnancy scare we had.

Christian Grey, there are no more animals in existence that could ever undo the hurt you have literally brought to the table this evening.

I thought that this had all been worked out in therapy with Dr. Flynn during our twelve weeks of pre-marital counseling. Why is he still so terrified over having children?

This should be a happy time for us. Yeah – I know it didn't happen much later like we had hoped, but still…here we are. I'm pregnant now. There's absolutely no undoing this. It's already done.

After a few beats, the waiter comes over.

"We're finished. Charge it to my account," Christian says bitterly.

Holy shit.

"Very well, Mr. Grey," the waiter responds. Christian was so ice cold that the waiter couldn't leave our presence fast enough.

I watch Christian intently with tears prickling my eyes as he grabs the phone. He types out something on the BlackBerry keyboard. It soon buzzes and he puts it away.

"Meet Taylor downstairs. He will take you home," he says coldly.

Tears burst forth and stream down my face. I quickly wipe them away.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I need space to think. You of all people should be able to relate to that."

Are you fucking kidding me, Grey?!

He's throwing old shit back in my face! He's rehashing the time that I left his penthouse apartment after finding out that he did some sneaky, underhanded antics behind my back in regards to my salary and my brand new apartment.

"We…we need to talk about this, Christian. This baby is going to be here whether we're ready for it or not…and…"

He raises his hand up in a halting motion once more and closes his eyes in an expression that silently says: 'Anastasia, if you don't shut the fuck up right now…'

I'm cut right down to the quick. My very own husband has just dehumanized me. The very same man who once said:

"I give you all that I have, for you are my all."

Right now, I'm not witnessing the actions of a man who declared those very words in front of God, our family, and closest friends. As I sit in the crowded club, I couldn't feel more alone. I feel rejected. Unloved.

Before I lose it right here in front of everyone in the club, I quietly stand to my feet and promptly walk away, leaving Christian sitting there, pissed off with his face rising and falling into his palms. He doesn't even look in my direction as I depart.

All the way down the elevator, I sob quietly into my trench coat. I could hear a few voices asking me if I'm okay, but I ignore them. The moment the elevator stops on the main floor, I dart out.

No…I'm not getting in the car with Taylor like this.
No…I'm not going home. I don't want to be home, hoping…waiting for Christian to come back like I'm the terrible person who betrayed my husband.

He betrayed me. In my most fragile state, instead of taking me into his strong, loving arms and telling me that everything's going to be okay…we'll get through this together…he shunned me.

Well, if it's space he wants, it's space he will get.

Fuck him.

When I reach the lobby, I power down my BlackBerry and bypass the Fifth Avenue exit. I proceed to the nearest ATM, withdraw the maximum limit from my personal checking account, and exit through the doors leading out to Cherry Street.

I hail a cab and immediately jump in.

….

Thursday, May 24, 2012

If I've learned nothing else these last two nights, I now understand the plight of a fugitive.

You have to learn how to be careful. Cautious. You can't leave any trace of your existence. Credit cards, technology are not your friend.

I feel terrible that my parents and friends are probably all worried sick about me. I've disappeared from the face of the earth for 48 hours.

Don't they say that the first 48 hours is key in locating a missing person before the trail runs cold? Perhaps time is finally on my side.

But how do I continue to live like this? I feel like a runaway child who has left with a pack of bubble gum and a handful of silver dollars wrapped up in a red bandana, hanging off of a broomstick.

After jumping in the taxi, I had the driver take me a good thirty minutes away from where I first started, but not anywhere in route to home or work. At my drop off point, I enter a coffee shop and pay a few bucks to use some kid's personal computer.

I locate a rideshare online that would take me out of Washington State that very night. The journey would take us well over sixteen hours. I was happy that the woman I rode with let me sit in the back seat and that she wasn't much of a talker. She could obviously tell that I was not having a very good day. Midway, we would take turns driving while the other slept.

When I finally arrived at my destination the following night, I go into some cheesy souvenir shop to buy a couple of shirts, a pair of sweatpants, some underwear, deodorant, and a cheap pair of sandals. I was able to find a lower-end hotel that I could afford for the next day or two. After that, I have no clue how to get my hands on more money without going through electronic means.

Fuck – for all I know, he's not even searching for me.
He's probably like: 'Well, good riddance to you and that damned baby that I never wanted'.

As soon as my head hit the pillow Wednesday night in my hotel room, 'survival mode' switches off and I immediately break down. I weep throughout the night.

It's now another night on the run. Thankfully, I'm way too depressed to even waste the little money that I do have on food. I've been functioning on water and free saltine crackers from the buffet condiment station. Hell – I know I should be eating more being that I'm pregnant and all.

After my latest snack of crackers and water, I follow my instinct and stake my corner at a machine. I can feel it in my bones. This is it. This is the one.

I sit down carefully on a stool, slide in my ticket into the machine, and pull the lever.
I need to hit it big tonight. I'm rationing out fifty bucks just for tonight. If I come out empty, it's fifty more for tomorrow. I only need to win enough cash to live off of for as long as possible without calling home.

Ding – ding – ding – ding

Yes! If I weren't in the process of hiding away from my grouchy husband, these small incremental winnings would feel even more victorious.

I increase my bet slightly and I pull the lever once more. Suddenly, I feel an eerie rush of cold air that makes the hair on the back of my neck and on my arms stand on end. I feel a presence entering my space. I'm frozen in place, unable to turn and look around me.

Instead, I take in a whiff of air, relying on my newfound 'Spidey' senses (thanks to the joys of pregnancy). Yep…that smell. My heart drops down to my toes. I close my eyes. I soon reopen them, focusing back on my machine. I pull the lever once more.

"What. Are. You. Doing."

I hear his voice say the words quietly and sharply. I sigh.
How in the fuck did he find me here?

I decrease my bet on the touchscreen and pull the lever, ignoring him.

"Anastasia, look at me. Please."

After the numbers on the video screen quit moving, I turn to my right and look up as my husband stares down at me. It is not the same angry, cold face that I sat across from two nights ago. This man looks lost and afraid. He lowers down and takes a seat at the slot machine next to mine. He swivels his chair over and locks his gaze into mine.

Suddenly, my thoughts go back to the year before where the two of us sat side by side at a different casino here in Las Vegas. Ironically, he was trying to convince me at the time why we couldn't be together.

Perhaps I should have listened to him back then. I could have saved myself from getting my heart pulverized in his blender of secrets and deception.

And it's on that thought that I start crying right there on the spot.

"No Bunny, no. Don't cry. Please…don't cry," he coos.

He pulls me into his arms and wraps me up tight. I don't fight him, but I don't hold him in return. I simply bury my face into his buttoned-up shirt. I begin to sob even louder before I remember myself and remember what he did to me two days ago.

"How did you find me here!?" I cry muffled into his chest.

"Ana, I will always find you. I love you."

I sob even louder. I loose myself from his hold and dry as many tears as I can with my campy black 'Viva Las Vegas' t-shirt. He hands me a handkerchief. Yes, I need to see clearly so I can look him square in his eye. When I can see again, he looks absolutely sincere and remorseful, but I'm not buying the shit. Nope…not one bit.

"How can you say that after how badly you treated me the other night!" I cry.

"Ana…I'm fucked up in the head – you know this. Look…let's get out of here and talk. I got us a room over at the Four Seasons. It's the Presidential Suite."

Of course he did. It's the very same hotel we stayed at when he and I first came to Vegas on business together almost a year ago. This time around, I won't be staying two floors under him. And although we are married now, I'd rather do anything but stay in the same place as this man. I don't give a shit how big that suite is.

"Christian…I don't…"

"Ana, please. I'm ready to talk now."

Now he wants to talk. The time to talk was 48 hours and 1100 miles ago.

"Christian…look – I know that you don't want this baby…"

"Ana, look – you don't understand. I need you to understand. Please…let's go and talk. I've brought you some clothes from home. Let's talk…okay?" he says, practically throwing himself down at my feet with his plea.

And as much as I want to tell him to 'kiss my lily-white ass', I oblige and follow him out of the casino, leaving my eighty-dollar ticket in the slot machine.

Hopefully someone gets lucky on my dime because my luck just ran out.

….

I've showered and put on underwear and lounging wear that doesn't scratch my skin like the other clothes that I was wearing did. Christian waits for me in the main room with room service spread across the dining table.

"You need to eat, Anastasia. I can tell by the pale look on your face that you haven't been eating."

And Fifty Shades is back – in full effect.

"You said that you wanted to talk. Talk then," I snap, completely ignoring his orders. A look of humility soon washes over him.

"Sit," he says, motioning me. I reluctantly take a seat. He turns a chair, positions it across from me, and is seated facing me. He then carefully takes both of my hands in his. I don't pull my hands away, but I turn my head away from him.

I'm too upset to look at him.

"Ana, baby…look at me."

Don't you 'baby' me, Grey. You abandoned me.

After a few beats, with tears returning in my eyes, I finally look at him.

"The woman who gave birth to me was addicted to drugs even while she carried me. I still to this day don't know who my biological father is."

I sigh. "Christian…I know all of this already. What you're saying to me is nothing new. It doesn't explain why you were so nasty to me for being pregnant," I sob gently.

"Look. There is research that shows that certain behaviors…certain physiological and psychological attributes that can be passed on from generation to generation. For me, it wasn't drugs – but it was the BDSM lifestyle. It was the fear of intimacy, which you cured me of, Ana. You did that."

I laugh and shake my head.

"I wouldn't say that you are completely cured, Christian."

"Ana…I am. But what I'm afraid of is that our child…this baby…"

He suddenly releases my hands and begins to rub his hand against my belly. I shiver at the gesture. He's touching the baby. He's finally acknowledging the baby.

"He or she might not be so lucky. This baby may end up with the sick and twisted desires that either me or the crack whore had…"

"Christian, I told you never to call your birth mother that again. She was ill. She couldn't help it."

"Fine…my birth mother. And no telling what mental sickness her sperm donor had. I don't want to pass down my poison onto this baby. I don't!"

My heart now aches for this poor, sad, misled soul sitting right before me. My damaged husband who I thought I helped to put back together again. Well, that's what his family keeps telling me. Apparently, they were wrong. We were all wrong. There are still remnants of his past haunting him.

"Christian…as long as this baby has love and attention – two of the things that you didn't get until the Greys adopted you, that's all this baby will need. I am nothing like your birth mother…"

"Baby…I never, ever said that. I would never say that. You…you are wonderful, Ana. You're nothing like her."

"And neither are you, Christian. You are nothing like her, either. You are protective, and loving. Look, you even went out of your way to find me here. I know without a shadow of doubt that you will always be there for this baby and keep it safe." I gaze over at my husband with a look of comfort and understand. I now understand the pain he felt that night at his club the moment I told him that I was pregnant.

I get it.

"I just want everything to be okay again. When you walked out of the club, I was mad at you. Then when Taylor called to tell me that you never made it out to the car, I saw my very life flash before my eyes. I thought that I lost you – forever."

"Christian, you can't treat me like dog shit and expect for everything to be just honkey dory! It's not right!"

"I know baby…I know," he says, taking me by both hands as he gets down before me on both knees.

"I'm so, so sorry. Please Ana…forgive me. I will never shut you out again. Ever. You just can't go leaving me like that again. You know that I suffer from separation anxiety – especially when it comes to you," he says with a pitiful face. I frown at him.

"And you can't be telling me to get out of your face like that without opening up to me. It shouldn't take me leaving thousands upon thousands of miles away from home in order for you to want to talk to me."

"Baby, I know. I will never do that again. I promise. I was so scared when you left. I didn't know what to do. You turned your phone off. I had my best people on you working 24/7 to narrow down your location. You are really sneaky," he says, none too pleased.

"Well, I've obviously learned something after a year of being stalked by you. Don't make me finally master getting lost."

"Ana, don't even joke about that. I don't want you ever walking out on me again. Please."

"Did you call my parents?"

"No. I knew that you wouldn't contact them."

"What about Lacy and everyone else at work?"

"I told them that you were away on personal business. I stayed home yesterday working diligently with my team to find you. You damn near gave me a heart attack, Ana!" he snaps.

Now he's mad at me again. When will this crazy roller coaster ride with fifty twists and turns ever cease?

"I couldn't go home to you, not after how bad you treated me after telling you that I was carrying your child."

"Our child," he corrects me.

"So how did you find me?" I ask once again.

"I'm not telling you," he says angrily.

"What?" I say, gaping at him.

"I'm not revealing intel in case you get some other crazy idea."

"And why would I even dare contemplate leaving you if you promised not to behave as poorly as you did two nights ago? You should feel confident in telling me how you found me in the first place since I won't leave – right? Since you're done with treating me like shit."

"Baby…I won't stop apologizing. I was absolutely horrible."

"Yes, you were."

"I was an asshole. A prick. I'm not worthy of your forgiveness, much less your love."

He looks at me, but I say nothing.

"You can stop me at any moment now," he says.

"No…you're fine. Keep going."

A big smile forms on his face and he starts to laugh. Soon, I forget all about me, these past two shitty days, and I begin laughing right along with him.

Yes, my husband is fucked up. He has his major flaws. But I know inside of that taut and toned chest of his lies a true heart of gold. It's the very same heart that will always protect not only me, but also this little blip of a human being that's currently taken up residence inside of me.

"Tomorrow morning, we will return home on the jet. Monday evening, you and I will see Dr. Flynn. Okay?" he proposes, still on his knees. I stare at him, not responding.

I'm so confused right now. I'm hurt, but for multiple reasons now. But at the same time, I want our marriage to work out too. I love this man.

"I want our marriage to survive this, Ana. I love you more than life itself. I want to be a better husband for you. And I promise to work hard to learn how to be a good father for our child whenever he or she gets here. I promise." He kisses both of my hands before searching my eyes for a reaction.

"Okay," I whisper with tears in my eyes.

….

Tuesday, August 26, 2031

(The present)

I sit up in bed with a book open in my lap, but I'm not reading it. I'm somewhere in la-la land, daydreaming about past events. Soon, Christian crawls into bed right beside me, breaking me out of my trance.

"Does reading by osmosis actually work?" he says, joking.

"I wished that it did."

I finally close the book and place it on the bedside table.

"You know, it's 2031 and they have these very cool virtual reality books out now that will even read to you."

"Christian, you know that I'm old fashioned when it comes to my literature," I spark.

He leans over to me and wraps his arms around me before kissing me on the lips.

"I've always loved that about you, Mrs. Grey. I hope that you never change."

"That's one thing you can count on," I flirt back. He kisses me once more. Soon, his lips move down to my neck, and I know exactly what he's up to.

"Hey…I need to talk to you about something first," I preface. He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn't stop ravaging my neck.

"It's about our daughter."

He stops kissing me.

"Which daughter?"

"Miss Phoebe Grace – our oldest and all-star high school student," I beam at him, laying it on thick. He sees right through it and narrows his eyes, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Well, she texted me at work today. She's the real reason why I left the office earlier than usual."

"Oh? What did she need?"

"Well, she wanted to um…talk to me about something."

His eyes narrow at me even more so, but I decide to hurry up and fill up the quiet space with more words before he can speculate on anything negative.

"You remember that nice young man, Hanson Larkin? He was a good friend of Teddy's back in high school and his baseball teammate."

Christian is still frowning at me, and I don't understand why.

"You know…Hanson. He used to come over here and play video games with Teddy and the other fellas. You met his parents, the Larkins who run that pharmacy over on Rose Avenue. They contribute to several of the charities that we work with."

"Okay?" he says, shrugging his shoulders. I'm taken aback by his indifference, but I decide to just close the deal, advocating for Phoebe and her desire to go out with this nice young man.

"Well, Hanson asked Phoebe out on a date this Saturday and she would like to tell him 'yes'. I told her that I would be totally fine with it if you agree to it," I preface.

Christian tightens his lips in a straight line, tilts his head over to the side and nods in contemplation. Even after twenty years, I still can't read this man.

"I appreciate that our daughter was mature enough to come to you and ask before making the call."

Christian's reaction astounds me.

"Yeah, I know. But that's just how Phoebe is. She's never been sneaky or underhanded. She's always been open and honest with us," I say, singing the praises of our eldest daughter.

"Exactly – unlike like that knuckle-headed big brother of hers."

"Christian," I snap.

"Well it's true. Phoebe has shown so much maturity for her age," he says warmly.

"Yes, I know. I'm so astounded by our little-big girl. She's going to do great things."

"Absolutely," he concurs.

"So you agree with me? I can give her the good news in the morning that she can confirm her date for Saturday?"

"What?! Wait…I didn't agree to that. The answer is no – absolutely not."

Oh no. I gasp at my husband who has seemingly pulled a world record breaking 180-degree turn in a manner of milliseconds.

"Christian, you just said that Phoebe is mature. She's at that age now to start dating. She'll be going to prom next year…"

"The answer is 'no', Ana. She is not going on some date. She needs to focus on her studies and not on boys. Besides, isn't that kid in college now? He's way too old for her anyway."

Are you serious, Grey? No…you can't be.

"Christian, Hanson is just a college freshman. Phoebe is a junior in high school. It's not even close to a May-December romance."

"First of all, there is no…romance here. Phoebe is just a child. Secondly, I'll be damned if my daughter goes out on a date with some punk named after the fuckers who sang a song titled: 'MMMBop'. "

"Christian, stop. You sound so crazy right now."

"I'm only crazy for you, Mrs. Grey," he says, pulling me into his arms. I block his advances.

"Stop! Look, I'm perfectly fine with Hanson. I like Hanson. Please, Christian…let her go out. They're only doing pizza and a movie at the mall."

"Anastasia, I don't know how many other ways there are to say the word 'No.' Non? Nein? Niet? Either way, the answer is still 'hell no'."

"Christian, you are being unreasonable."

"Oh, am I?" he says, sounding indignant.

"Yes, you are. Phoebe is a good girl and Hanson is a nice young man."

"And he's also eighteen and our daughter is only sixteen. Isn't that considered statutory rape?"

Oh, no he did not just go there. He of all people has some nerve.

Instead of arguing with him and saying something that I would later regret, I pinch my lips tightly and lay down on my pillow, turning my face away from him.

"Ana?"

"Christian, sixteen years old is the age of consent in Washington State," I mutter.

"I won't even ask how you knew that," he scoffs in a bitter tone.

I spring up from my pillow and glare at him.

"Of course I looked it up."

"Well…I don't care if the age of consent is fourteen in fucking Washington State, the answer is still 'no'."

"I don't understand you one bit, Christian. Phoebe is a good girl and she's going to be seriously bummed when I tell her that she can't go out on her first date with that nice young man."

"Well…the kid's okay as far as I can tell…but I still don't trust him with my daughter," he says with a critical glare in his eye.

His words and expression take me by surprise. I linger on it for a beat and then my eyes grow round and wide. Oh no. Please don't tell me…

"First of all…our daughter. Second of all, where is this coming from? Did you know that Hanson and Phoebe were communicating before I told you so?" I ask.
Christian says absolutely nothing.

And here we go once again.

First me, then Teddy…now poor Phoebe is getting a bitter taste of her overly zealous father and his penchant for stalking out our every move as well as the people we're in contact with.

Will this vicious cycle ever cease?

…

Ted

Tuesday, August 26, 2031

It's ten o'clock at night. Here in the library, it's not necessarily empty. There are many other students present, but they are spread throughout the building, leaving wide gaps of open spaces in between. I sit in the computer lab, the only person present in the second from the last row of workstations.

I close out of the classwork portal for one of my courses before launching a discrete browser. I pull up a social media site and I search for a name in particular. See, I've learned from past missteps. I don't do searches on a certain individual using the MacBook Ultra that my parents bought me.

People on campus may think that I'm a dick, and I do pretty well maintaining that front. They think that I have the entire world right in the palm of my hand and that I'm just some spoiled rich kid with everything going for me. They might even be eager to trade places with me in an instant. But the moment they realize what they'd be sacrificing just to have the last name 'Grey' they'd quickly reconsider.

The 24/7 surveillance.
The scolding and the controlling.
It fucking sucks.
But here's the funny thing. I believe that as soon as I am exactly where my dad wants me to be, he will finally lay off of me and let me live the rest of my life as I see fit.

Sure Pops, I'll run your multi-billion dollar company. However, once I'm at the helm, I will finally be in control of my life. I can put barriers in place to make sure that no one else has a say in where I hang out, who I hang out with…or who I fall in love with.

And there she is.
I see that she's posted a new selfie at the bar with a few of her girlfriends. She's just having a grand ole time.

Damn – she looks so happy. I feel a slight pang in my chest.

This is Sophie's final year at UW, which is understandable why she's having her last hurrah with a group of friends, including her five roommates. In theory, Sophie should've graduated a year ago. However midway into her studies, she decided to change her major from nursing to hospitality. This change required her to have to take an entirely new set of core classes.

While she's not taking class, Sophie works part time at a nearby Marriott hotel. I've often thought about surprising her and popping up at her job. But as you know, that would never work because I'm constantly being followed. Bummer.

It doesn't surprise me that Sophie would aspire to work in the hospitality field. Growing up, she was a natural at helping people. She would often assist her dad and stepmom with things over at the big house – which my family lived in – as well as in the house where her family lived. Sophie would also volunteer her services to my parents whenever she was around us.

Hospitality is a very admirable profession. If anyone were to ask my father if hospitality was a good profession, he would probably say 'yes'. However, when it comes to his own children dating someone who aspires to be in that field – especially me in particular – my father would abhor it. What may be good for someone else's kid isn't necessarily good enough or any child of Christian Grey's.

My father may pretend to not be all high and mighty, but when it comes to me, there just isn't a girl out there good enough to be in my presence as far as he's concerned. The very thought drives me absolutely bonkers.

I don't fucking understand why he is such a hypocrite. He himself came from extremely humble beginnings – although I don't know all of the details about his life before my grandparents adopted him. He's often quite clipped whenever I ask him about it. I've even tried to ask my mom, but she'd always reply with: "That's your father's story to tell." Grandma and Grandpa Grey take the exact same stance.

I don't get it. Everyone knows all of the details about their parents' childhood…right? Why is everyone so protective when it comes to my father's first four years of life? I'll never understand it for the life of me.

And Mom…it's like she can't make a call without Dad co-signing it. When she caught Sophie and I making out that day, she insisted on telling Dad about it. She knew goddamn well that he would completely lose his shit, which she absolutely hates. Yet, it didn't stop her from ratting me out.

So when Dad confronted me about it, I eventually professed to him that I was in love with Sophie. His reaction led me to believe that if I were to tell him that I was an ax murderer, he would have taken that revelation better than me simply declaring my love for his live-in employees' daughter.

From that moment on, Sophie never came on the property again. Not too long after we were found out, I would attempt to meet with Sophie secretly somewhere in the city. That effort didn't get very far. Dad had eyes everywhere. When I would become even more creative with reaching out to Sophie, even she began to push me away.

Brokenhearted, I asked her why. Why the sudden change of heart? Did my father get to her? She never would say. From that moment on, I always had the goal of finding some way back to her. I even chose a college on the west coast in order for her to come find me if she wanted to. But it was to no avail. Sophie has simply moved on.

The sad part is that I haven't been able to move on. I'm still stuck in the past, asking 'why' over and over again.

Why didn't you fight for us, Sophie?

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I'm sorry for the long delay. I ask that you forgive any mistakes in this chapter since my marvelous beta for this story has been unable to proof due to more pressing issues.

In the next chapter, we find out that Christian has remained steps ahead of his daughter. In spite of this, he decides to have a heart-to-heart with the young man interested in dating his daughter – much to Phoebe's chagrin. Later, Ana is caught in between a rock and a hard place when her daughter begins to shut her out and confide in someone else over her recent dilemma.

Teddy continues to watch Sophie from a distance, hoping to find some way to reach out to her without getting caught.

Just a forewarning for those who may fear that this tale is going to be about the "mean parents" going against the "good kids": Please bear with me as I take you on a journey. This is the first time Christian gets to experience a daughter wanting to date, so of course the overprotective dad will be polishing his figurative shotgun, (hint at the next title chapter, haha!). It's something that he's going to have to get over, just like all loving parents. However, the scenario with Ted is a little more complicated than Phoebe's. He's the only male offspring, so there's a ton of pressure riding on him to meet a certain expectation. There are also additional outliers that will be revealed as the story moves on.

Please let me know what you think of the tale so far. I have a FB account now if anyone cares to friend me. You can find me at username "storietella2". I've also started a Pinterest page for "Family Business" You can find that under the username "storietella". Thanks everyone! – ST2