Chapter 6 - Dana Thought She Owned The Show
Dana's company was called Northstar Narrative.
Three employees.
One office in a converted warehouse twenty minutes from downtown.
My attorney came with me.
Ryan's attorney came with him.
Ryan did not want Dana meeting me alone.
For once, I agreed.
Dana looked nothing like the villain I had built from her voice.
Late thirties.
Black jeans.
Sweater.
Glasses.
No glamorous content executive energy.
She looked like someone who had not slept.
We sat around a conference table.
Her lawyer joined remotely.
Dana opened first.
“I want to be clear. Northstar does not claim ownership of Noah.”
I nearly stood up.
My attorney touched my wrist.
Dana continued.
“That was badly phrased.”
“Yes.”
“I mean we have contractual rights to content created under our production agreement.”
Ryan's attorney said:
“Not where a minor's privacy rights are implicated.”
Dana nodded.
“That is being reviewed.”
I turned to Ryan.
“You signed a production agreement.”
“Yes.”
“With our son's recordings included.”
“I didn't give her private archive footage.”
Dana looked at him.
“Some was uploaded into the project drive.”
Ryan stared.
“What?”
“You gave us access.”
“To edit selects.”
“You granted folder access.”
His face changed.
That was real surprise.
Dana looked almost sorry.
“You didn't separate directories.”
My stomach dropped.
“How much can they see?”
Ryan turned to her.
“How much?”
Dana answered:
“Potentially all of it.”
Ryan stood.
His attorney told him to sit.
He didn't.
“You said you only pulled published assets.”
“I said we only intended to.”
“Dana.”
“You gave administrator permission.”
He stared.
For the first time, I saw him experience the same thing he'd done to Noah.
A person had taken access more broadly than he understood.
He sat.
Dana continued.
“No one at my company has been reviewing years of private family footage for entertainment.”
“What have you reviewed?” I asked.
“Material Ryan flagged.”
“What kind?”
“Enough to build his content strategy.”
“Which means?”
“Conflict moments. Parenting reflections. Exchange-day footage. Old family clips.”
My skin crawled.
“From when we were married?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Ryan.
He stared at the table.
Dana continued.
“I should have required written consent from both parents before using anything involving Noah.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't.”
“Why?”
“Because Ryan represented that he had the right to provide the material.”
Ryan looked up.
“I said I was his father.”
Dana's face tightened.
“You also said your custody order did not restrict posting.”
“It doesn't.”
My attorney finally spoke.
“Absence of a specific restriction is not the same as informed consent from a child or co-parent.”
Dana nodded.
“I understand that now.”
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“Everybody understands things now.”
I looked at him.
He caught it.
“Fine.”
Dana slid a printed revenue summary across the table.
My attorney took it first.
Channel revenue had accelerated sharply during the last five months.
Memberships.
Advertising.
One sponsorship with a co-parenting scheduling app.
Another with a men's wellness brand.
Then a line called Performance Bonus.
I pointed.
“What is that?”
Dana answered.
“Our fee increases when monthly views exceed thresholds.”
I stared.
“So when Noah cries—”
Dana closed her eyes.
“My company earns more if overall viewership rises.”
There it was.
Not payment per tear.
Not a literal bonus for hurting a child.
A business incentive broad enough to make ugly behavior profitable.
I asked:
“When you said ‘if he cries, the numbers go higher,’ were you trying to make Ryan continue?”
Dana thought carefully.
“Yes.”
Ryan looked at her.
“You told me you were joking.”
“I told myself I was joking.”
Silence.
Then she looked at Noah's father.
“You had already said you were going to end the live when he grabbed the phone.”
I turned sharply.
Ryan stared at her.
“What?”
Dana continued.
“You said, ‘I’m shutting this down.’”
My chest tightened.
So Ryan had tried to end it.
Before her comment.
That did not erase the planned confrontation.
But it mattered.
Dana continued:
“I pushed because the live had jumped from nine thousand to eighteen in under a minute.”
Ryan looked sick.
“You said I needed to stay with the moment.”
“Yes.”
“And I listened.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
For once he did not hide behind her.
“I listened.”
Dana opened another document.
“There is something else Melissa should know.”
Ryan's face hardened.
“Dana.”
She ignored him.
“The channel's largest sponsorship renewal is contingent on a four-part series scheduled to begin next month.”
I looked at her.
“What series?”
Dana answered:
“Ryan called it ‘The Weekend I Almost Lost My Son.’”
My stomach dropped.
Ryan closed his eyes.
May you like
Dana continued.
“Saturday was intended to be episode one.”
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