Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy

Chapter 170 - 171 | Exclusivity Clauses

The Vanguard meeting went exactly how I expected it to go.

Marcus Vane was a mountain of a man stuffed into a suit that probably cost more than most people’s cars. He had the kind of handshake that tested your bones and a smile that never quite reached his eyes. His office on the forty-third floor of the Vanguard Tower looked out over a different slice of Century City than my father’s view, but the message was the same. Power. Money. The illusion that the person sitting behind the desk controlled something that mattered.

"Rome D’Angelo," he said, gesturing to the leather chair across from him. "The man who knocked Nolan Traore unconscious in front of half the hero industry."

"I prefer ’the man who won his match,’ but sure."

Cheon and Mera flanked me as I sat down. Mera had ditched the hat and coat, her red skin and horns on full display. Marcus’s eyes lingered on her for a moment too long before returning to me.

"Your companions are welcome to wait outside if they’d prefer."

"They’d prefer to stay."

"I see." He steepled his fingers. "Let’s talk about your future, then."

The next hour was a performance. Corporate seduction dressed in quarterly projections.

Marcus Vane knew exactly what he was selling and exactly how to sell it. He walked me through Vanguard’s resources like he was giving a tour of a mansion — training facilities better equipped than most pro agencies, direct connections to media outlets that controlled the public narrative, sponsorship pipelines that could turn a three-star hero into a household name inside six months. He talked about career trajectories, public image management, the precise mathematical formula for turning raw combat performance into marketable brand identity. He knew the numbers. He knew the system. He knew what eighteen-year-olds with provisional licenses wanted to hear.

He also talked about money.

A lot of money.

"Signing bonus of two million," he said, sliding a projection sheet across the desk like it was the opening offer in a negotiation he’d already won. "Performance incentives structured to scale with your ranking. If you hit two-star within twelve months — and we believe you will — that bonus triples. Full medical coverage, housing stipend if you want to move out of academy housing, and direct access to our proprietary support item development program. You’d be working with the same engineers who built Sentinel’s current loadout."

He let that last part sit. Sentinel was the number four hero in North America. Vanguard’s flagship.

"Generous," I said.

"We believe in investing in talent." He leaned forward slightly. The posture shift was deliberate — closing the distance, implying partnership instead of pitch. "Especially talent that shows the kind of instinct you demonstrated in that match. Most students your age fight like they’re trying to execute a lesson plan. You fought like you were trying to end it."

"I was."

"Exactly." He smiled. It still didn’t reach his eyes. "That’s what we’re looking for. Competitors, not participants."

"What’s the contract length?"

"Standard is five years."

"With exclusivity clauses."

The smile flickered. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to catch it.

"You’ve done your homework."

"My father mentioned something about it."

"Ah. Vito." He leaned back in his chair. "I imagine he had opinions about you meeting with us."

"He has opinions about everything I do. Doesn’t mean I listen."

"Fair enough." Marcus pulled a folder from his desk drawer. "The exclusivity clauses are negotiable for candidates of your caliber. We could discuss a three-year term with reduced restrictions on outside business dealings."

"What about a one-year provisional contract with no exclusivity?"

He laughed. "You’re ambitious."

"I prefer ’realistic about my value.’"

"Your value is theoretical at this point. You’ve had one impressive match against a single opponent. That’s potential, not proof."

"Then let’s talk again after the exhibition matches."

"The exhibition against Century East?"

"Yeah."

"Their top team includes Mei Chen. Three-Star provisional. Spatial manipulation that makes your friend’s portals look like party tricks." He nodded toward Mera. "No offense."

"None taken." Mera’s tail flicked behind her. "I’ve heard of her. She’s good."

"She’s exceptional. And she’s not the only threat on that roster."

"Sounds like you’re trying to scare me off."

"I’m trying to give you perspective. The exhibition matches are where promising students go to get humbled. Coastline hasn’t beaten Century East in six years."

"Then it’s about time someone changed that."

Marcus studied me for a long moment. Then he smiled, and this time it almost looked genuine.

"Tell you what," he said. "Beat Century East. Win the exhibition. Do that, and we’ll talk about whatever contract terms you want."

"And if I lose?"

"Then we’ll talk about the standard terms instead."

I stood up. "Deal."

We shook hands. His grip was still testing my bones, but I didn’t flinch.

"One more thing," he said as I turned toward the door. "The NEA has been asking questions about you. About your abilities and how they manifested so suddenly after eighteen years of Passive Null classification."

"I’m aware."

"Be careful, Rome. The people who run those inquiries don’t care about potential or talent. They care about categories. And you don’t fit into any of theirs."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

The elevator ride down was quiet. Cheon was processing something, her expression distant and analytical. Mera was watching me with that look she got when she was calculating odds.

"He’s right about the NEA," Cheon said finally. "If they decide to investigate you formally—"

"Then I’ll deal with it."

"How?"

"I don’t know yet. But I’ve got time to figure it out."

"Do you? The exhibition matches are in three weeks. That’s three weeks of public performance with abilities you’re not supposed to have."

"So I’ll be creative."

"Creative how?"

"I’ll stick to abilities that could plausibly be explained as adaptive response. Rubber Body. Fire Fist. Maybe Gravity Jail if I can sell it as a secondary manifestation."

"And the portals?"

"I’ll save those for emergencies."

"What about the drain?"

I glanced at her. "What about it?"

"You used it on Nolan. In front of everyone. The footage shows you touching his face and then his energy output dropping by forty percent in six seconds."

"I explained that as pulling from his kinetic discharge."

"Which made no sense to anyone who actually understands how Essentia works."

"It made enough sense that Reeves accepted it."

"Reeves has her own reasons for accepting whatever explanations you give her."

That was true. Laurana and I had an arrangement now, one that benefited both of us in ways that were complicated to explain to anyone who wasn’t actively involved in it.

"Look," I said. "The exhibition is my chance to prove I belong in the top five. If I can do that, I get access to the family trust and a seat on the Angelo Corp board. That’s real power. The kind that lets me protect myself and everyone I care about."

"And if you expose yourself in the process?"

"Then at least I’ll have the resources to fight back."