Sold To My Ex’s Dad: An Age Gap, Secret Baby Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)

“You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

The nurse’s voice is unfamiliar, far away.

As consciousness flickers, reality blends into a hazy tableau of blurred hospital scenes.

The constant in and out leaves me disoriented, barely catching glimpses of Allie’s anxious face before I’m swept under again, this time for surgery. The details escape me; all that lingers is a sense of being submerged in darkness.

I come to with a start, my leg suspended in traction, swathed in bandages. My head throbs painfully in time with my pulse; each beat a grim drum of reality grounding me back to the present.

But it’s the sight in the corner of the room that sharpens my focus—a man, suited, his presence filling the space with an unspoken authority. It’s Matteo Rossi, Luca Amato’s associate, the last person I expected to see. A chill runs down my spine at the sight of him.

Still groggy, I glance around the sterile room, half-expecting to see a nurse or Allie, but it’s just me and Rossi.

‘Don’t hospitals have rules about visitors?’ I grumble, squinting at him through the dim light.

Rossi gives a low chuckle, the sound oddly out of place in the clinical quiet of the hospital. ‘You’d be surprised what doors open with the right connections,’ he says, leaning back casually. ‘Luca’s name carries more weight than you might think.’

I don’t like the sound of that. My voice is sharp, the pain in my leg fueling my impatience.

‘What do you want, Rossi?’

Rossi shifts in his seat, his demeanor all business now. ‘First off, Luca sends his deepest apologies for the events at Savor. He’s distressed about the chaos caused under his watch.’

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical but listening. ‘Apologies are a start. What about the damage?’

‘He’s prepared to compensate you fully,’ Rossi continues, pulling a sleek pen from his jacket pocket and flipping it between his fingers—an idle gesture that belies the tension in the air. ‘Actually, Luca plans to write you a blank check. Whatever it costs to rebuild, consider it covered.’

That catches my attention, though the throbbing in my leg reminds me to keep my cool. ‘Generous. And the cops? How am I supposed to keep his name out of this?’

‘Handled,’ Rossi assures with a slight nod. ‘There won’t be any police investigation that could cast a shadow on him or your establishment. Luca has made sure of that. Discretion is paramount, after all.’

I’m not sure how I feel about that—relieved or more entangled. ‘And what’s the catch? There’s always a catch with deals this clean.’

Rossi smiles, a thin, knowing smile. ‘No catch, Mr. Spellman. Though, think of this as an opportunity. The incident, while unfortunate, might just stir up enough intrigue to spotlight whatever you plan next. A little excitement can be quite the draw.’

Leaning back, I consider his words. ‘So, you’re saying I should turn a shootout into a selling point for my next venture?’ The idea is absurd yet strangely fitting in this bizarre situation.

‘Exactly,’ Rossi confirms. ‘Luca believes in your culinary art. He thinks this could be a new beginning, a story of rising from the ashes. A very compelling narrative, don’t you think?’

I chuckle dryly, the pain meds making me bolder. ‘You make it sound like a phoenix rising, not a restaurant reopening after a mob shootout.’

‘Perception involves the art of painting what you want others to see,’ Rossi quips, standing to leave. ‘Think it over, Patrick. And remember, Luca is just as invested in seeing Savor succeed again as you are.’

As he reaches the door, he pauses, turning back with a final nod. ‘Congratulations on the twins, by the way. Luca truly wishes you all the best.’

With that, Rossi exits, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the pain in my leg, and a future that suddenly seems as uncertain as it is promising.

Lying back against the sterile hospital pillows, Rossi’s words echo in my mind, a persistent buzz that I can’t shake off.

‘Whatever you plan next,’ he had said. It’s a prompt that stirs something deep within me. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is an opportunity to start fresh with something entirely new. The thought is both liberating and daunting.

But I shove those musings to the back of my mind, my focus shifting as I press the buzzer by my bed, summoning a nurse.

I need to see Allie; everything else can wait.

The door swings open, and a young nurse steps in. ‘Mr. Spellman, how can I assist you?’ she asks, her voice a soothing balm in the sterile room.

‘I want to see my girlfriend,’ I say, my voice firmer than I feel. ‘Is she here yet?’

‘She is. Been here since you arrived, in fact. I’ll bring her in right now,’ the nurse replies with a reassuring smile.

Gratitude washes over me, followed by a pang of concern. I need to see her and make sure she’s really okay. Everything else—Luca, Rossi, the future of Savor—can wait.

The nurse hesitates at the door, turning back to add, ‘You were very lucky, Mr. Spellman. The bullet went clean through, missing any major arteries. You should be back on your feet in about six weeks.’

Six weeks. That sounds like a lifetime and a blink of an eye all at once. I nod, absorbing the information. ‘Thank you,’ I manage, my mind already racing ahead to rehabilitation, recovery, and getting back in control.

As the nurse leaves, I sink back against my pillow, my body aching but my mind restless. Six weeks to think, plan, and decide the path forward. Six weeks to heal not just physically but mentally and to rebuild what was shattered.

I’m lost in thought as the door opens again, and there stands Allie. Relief floods through me, knowing she’s safe, seeing her here with me. Our eyes meet, and without a word, she crosses the room, her presence filling the space around my hospital bed with warm comfort. Everything else fades into the background; for now, it’s just us.

She throws her arms around me with such force that it sends a sharp reminder of my bullet wound.

I can’t help but groan—a reflex to the sudden pain.

‘Sorry!’ she exclaims, immediately pulling back with a look of concern etched across her face.

‘It’s fine,’ I assure her, managing a weak smile despite the discomfort. Her presence alone does more for my spirits than any painkiller could.

Her eyes search mine, earnest and full of relief at finding me awake and coherent. ‘How are you really?’ she asks, brushing a hand gently against my arm.

‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ I reply, trying to lighten the mood. She chuckles, shaking her head. “And how’s the staff?”

‘Only you would end up with a gunshot wound and still be worrying about everyone else,’ she says with a wry smile. ‘I’m fine, Patrick. The staff is shaken up, but there were no other injuries. Savor, though …’ Her voice trails off, a shadow crossing her expression.

‘We’ll figure out Savor later,’ I say firmly, not wanting to spiral into that discussion just yet. Right now, focusing on us, on the immediate moment, feels far more critical. I take her hand, holding it between mine, feeling the warmth and life of her skin against my own. ‘I love you like mad, Allie. I’m not going to let a day go by without making sure you know that.’

Her eyes soften, and a smile breaks through, mirroring my resolve. ‘I love you, too, Patrick. More than I can say.’ And with those words hanging between us, filling the space with their weight and warmth, she leans down and kisses me.

‘I want you to move in with me as soon as possible,’ I say as the kiss breaks, my words clear and deliberate. We’d discussed the matter before, but there’s a new urgency to it. “I don’t want to wait another second to join our lives.”

Her smile widens, lighting up her face, erasing any remnants of concern from moments before. ‘I can’t wait,’ she replies, her voice filled with enthusiasm and love.

As the lingering warmth of our kiss fades, I catch a shift in Allie’s expression. Her smile is gone, replaced by a somber seriousness. Something’s weighing on her mind. ‘What’s up?’ I ask, my voice filled with concern.

She hesitates for a moment, and then her face lights up with cautious optimism. ‘Caleb is here,’ she reveals.

I’m taken aback, my mind racing. ‘Caleb? How is he?’ The thought of seeing my son, especially after our last interaction, stirs emotions within me.

‘He’s … it was a bit awkward at first,’ she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘But I told him what happened, and he came right away. He’s really worried about you.’

“Can you send him in?” Allie nods, standing up with a smile that reaches her eyes. ‘I’ll go get him right now.’

‘Wait,’ I call out just as she turns to leave. She pauses, looking back at me. I reach out, taking her hand once more. ‘Thank you, Allie. For everything.’ I mean every word, grateful not just for her support now but for being the bridge between Caleb and me.

She leans down, her lips pressing softly against mine in a kiss filled with promise and reassurance. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she whispers against my lips, then turns to fetch my son.

As she leaves, I settle back against my pillows again and take a deep breath, preparing myself to face him.

Allie returns, her steps hesitant as she ushers Caleb into the room. The air thickens with a tangible tension as they exchange glances—unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Sensing the discomfort, Allie offers a small smile, murmuring about giving us space. “I’ll leave you two,” she says, her voice low, before slipping out, closing the door softly behind her.

The room feels smaller suddenly, just Caleb and me, the silence stretching out. He shifts on his feet and then clears his throat. “How are you holding up?” he asks, his eyes flicking briefly to my bandaged leg.

“Ah, you know, just thought I’d try out a new look for the summer,” I quip, motioning toward my leg. “It’s all the rage on TikTok.” It’s lame, I know, but it breaks the ice a little, drawing a reluctant smile from Caleb.

He relaxes slightly, finding a spot to sit at the edge of a chair. “Been staying with a friend in Queens,” he explains when I probe about his whereabouts. It’s vague, but it’s more than I’ve heard in days.

The conversation edges toward the incident, Caleb’s tone turning cynical. “You know, Dad, they’ve made dozens of movies about how dealing with the mob can be bad news. Maybe you should have watched a couple,” he jests, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

I can’t help but laugh; the sound rougher than I intended. “Yeah, maybe a classic film or two would’ve clued me in,” I shoot back, the humor a welcome respite from the strain.

We both chuckle, the sound welcome against the beeping of machines around us. It feels good to laugh with my son again, even if it’s shadowed by the weight of recent events.

“Really though,” I start, “it was supposed to be just business. Luca liked the food and liked the privacy. I never wanted any …” My voice trails off, the reality of how quickly things spiraled out of control pressing in.

Caleb nods, his expression sobering. “I get it, Dad. It’s just a lot to take in, you know?” His eyes meet mine, and there’s a depth there, a new understanding.

I nod, feeling the tension in the room easing slightly. ‘I’m sorry, son. I never wanted things to get this messy,’ I confess, the raw honesty clear in my voice.

Caleb shifts, his posture relaxing as he meets my gaze again. ‘I know you didn’t plan for any of this,’ he admits, his voice steadier now. ‘I acted out because I was hurt, but I shouldn’t have disappeared. That’s on me.’

The air between us feels lighter, a mutual understanding taking the place of the previous chill. ‘Look, things are changing,’ I continue, my tone firm yet open. ‘You’re going to have siblings soon. I’d really like for you to be a part of their lives.’

He pauses, considering my words, then nods, a slow, deliberate motion. ‘I can’t imagine not being around for them,’ he says, sincerity lacing his words. ‘It’s going to be weird, sure, but I’m willing to make it work. For them, and for us.’

Pride swells in my chest, a surge of relief flooding through me. ‘That means a lot. More than you know,’ I say, extending my arms toward him.

He steps forward, and we embrace, the hug firm and forgiving, a physical mending of the fractures between us. As we pull away, there’s a smile on his face, mirrored by my own.

As Caleb glances out the window, he shakes his head. ‘I drove by Savor. It looks rough. What’s the plan, Dad?’

“I’m not quite sure yet. Still figuring that out. Got any bright ideas?” I ask, trying to draw him into a conversation about the future.

Before he can answer, the door swings open. A pretty young doctor with dark hair and big brown eyes about Caleb’s age steps in. ‘Mr. Spellman, I need to conduct a quick checkup,’ she announces, her voice firm yet friendly.

Caleb’s mood visibly brightens at the sight of her, the ruins of Savor momentarily forgotten.

The doctor does a check of my vitals and declares that I need to get as much rest as I can.

As she goes to leave the room, Caleb shoots his shot. ‘Hey, is there anywhere good to grab a bite around here?’ he asks, more perked up than I’ve seen him in a long time.

She laughs lightly, a sound that seems to linger in the suddenly warmer room. ‘Actually, the food court on the second floor isn’t bad,’ she suggests, her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.

Putting on his most charming smile, Caleb asks, “Would you mind showing me the way?”

The doctor smiles and nods. “Sure. I’m about to grab some lunch myself. Follow me.”

“Great, thanks. I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Amy,” she replies.

Throwing me a quick smile over his shoulder, Caleb follows the pretty young doctor out of my room.

I let out a slow breath. Whatever is next for Savor, Caleb, and me feels positive, like there are fresh new beginnings just around the corner.