Uncovered Secret: Taylor Swift Has A Daughter - Fanfiction

Chapter 9: Joe Calls

The phone call came in the early evening, just as the hues of sunset were casting a soft glow in the room. I had been expecting it as I sent Joe a text that we need to talk. His voice, once soft and tender, now carried a note of cold harshness that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Taylor, what the hell were you thinking, letting Bee into the spotlight like that?" His words were sharp, cutting through the serene ambiance of the evening.

"I didn't have a choice, Joe. The paparazzi found out about her, and I needed to control the narrative," I defended, my voice steady but the tremor of anxiety betraying me.

"Oh, so parading her in front of the world is controlling the narrative? You know how I feel about this!" His voice raised a notch higher, the bitterness dripping from each syllable.

"I know, but she's my daughter too, and I had to protect her the best way I knew how," I retorted, clenching the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.

"Oh, by letting the world dissect her life? That's protection?" His sarcasm was a slap across my face.

"I am doing my best, Joe! It's not like you've been here to help navigate this!" My words shot out before I could reign them in. The silence that followed was a heavy blanket of unsaid words and unresolved emotions.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to make her a public spectacle, I would have," Joe spat out, each word a dagger aimed at my heart.

Tears welled up in my eyes, the unfairness of his accusations mingling with the residue of our shared past that lingered between us. "Joe, I have always put Bee's well-being first, even if it meant facing the wrath of the world alone."

"And what about me? Did you even consider how I would feel? How this would affect me?" The self-centeredness of his outcry stung.

"This isn't about you, Joe. This is about Bridget, our daughter!" My voice quivered with a mixture of anger and desperation.

"Well, maybe it's time I take matters into my own hands," he threatened, his words sending a chill down my spine.

The threat hung in the air, a dark cloud looming over the fragile remains of our conversation. It echoed through the silence, each word a haunting reminder of the discord that now tainted the bond we once shared.

"Joe, don't you dare threaten me," my voice was a fragile whisper, a delicate glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch. "Bridget needs stability, not a tug of war between her parents."

"Oh, now you talk about stability? After you've thrown our daughter into the wolves?" His accusation was a brutal blow, each word a merciless jab at my already bleeding heart.

"I didn't throw her to the wolves, Joe. I was trying to build a shield around her, something to keep the venom of the world at bay," my voice trembled as I tried to explain, to make him see the fear that drove my actions.

"By exposing her to millions? Brilliant, Taylor," his voice was cold, unforgiving.

"Joe, it's not like I planned for any of this to happen. The paparazzi invaded our privacy, and I had to react," my defense was weak, crumbling under the weight of his anger and my own guilt.

"So you reacted by making her a public spectacle? Do you even hear yourself?" The scorn in his tone was a piercing arrow, striking the core of my insecurities.

"I did what I thought was best at the moment. I can't change that now," my voice was barely audible, a thin veil trying to cover the gaping wound in my heart.

"Well, you better figure something out, Taylor. Or I will," and with that, the line went dead.

The silence of the room engulfed me, a quiet storm raging in the void he left behind. The words we had hurled at each other hung in the air, a suffocating fog of anger, regret, and a love for Bridget that now seemed to pull us apart rather than bind us together.

I sunk into the chair, the tears now flowing freely, each droplet a bitter reminder of the turbulent sea that now stood between Joe, Bridget, and me. The sunset outside painted the sky in hues of red and orange, a beautiful end to a day that left scars on the canvas of our lives.