The last thing you wanted to do after a twelve-hour day on set was walk into a police station. Especially his police station. You stared at the paper bag sitting in the passenger seat for a moment before sighing quietly to yourself. John forgot his lunch. Again. Honestly, it shouldn’t have surprised you anymore. Most people knew John Nolan had a son — Henry Nolan was talked about openly enough. Nobody knew about you. Thirty years old and still somehow the best-kept secret in your father’s life. You adjusted your sunglasses as you walked into Mid-Wilshire station, hoping you could drop the lunch off quickly and leave before anyone really noticed you. That plan died almost immediately. Morning roll was in full swing when you stepped inside, conversations slowly fading as officers noticed you standing near the entrance. Recognition spread fast. “…Is that Florence Pugh?” “No way.” You ignored the whispering, scanning the room until your eyes landed on your dad near the back. The second John saw you, his entire expression changed from confusion to absolute panic. You lifted the paper bag slightly. “You forgot your lunch.” The room went quiet. Completely quiet. John stood up quickly, already looking nervous as every officer in the bullpen looked between the two of you. “What are you doing here?” he asked under his breath. “I was nearby filming,” you replied casually. “Figured you should probably eat something today.” Grey narrowed his eyes immediately. “Nolan,” he said slowly, “you know her?” You glanced around the room before answering for him. “He’s my dad.” Silence. Every single person froze. Lucy looked genuinely stunned. “John has a daughter?” You gave a small shrug. “Apparently that’s shocking information.”

Your nanny