The road winding through the rural Idaho landscape was little more than white snow.
It was early January of 1975, and at the end of a private, unmarked road sat an exclusive medical clinic.
It had no signs, no advertisements in the local yellow pages, and no public profile of any kind.
Duke Hauser had paid a small fortune to get things done this way.
The facility was explicitly designed for people who required total discretion, staffed entirely by a small vetted team of medical professionals bound by non-disclosure agreements.
The closest town of any kind was more than an hour's drive away.
Inside the clinic, the atmosphere was a contrast to the freezing temperatures outside.
The hallways were warm, and Duke liked it as he paced the length of the hallway.
He was dressed simply, wearing dark trousers and a wool sweater, his usual calm gone.
He checked his heavy steel wristwatch for the fifth time in less than ten minutes. He stopped to stare intensely at the door leading to the delivery room.
The door finally clicked open, and a nurse in white scrubs stepped out into the waiting room, she offered a smile and nodded slightly toward the room.
Duke didn't hesitate, he pushed past the threshold, stepping into the softly lit delivery room.
Margaux was there, propped up in the center of the bed, looking exhausted, her hair damp and plastered to her forehead with sweat.
Duke moved to her side, and took her hand in both of his, leaning in close, and whispered steady words of encouragement.
He had firmly insisted on being in the room to accompany Margaux.
The labor progressed smoothly, expertly guided by th obstetrician, there were no medical complications, no sudden alarms from the monitors.
Adter a while, what came out was a sharp healthy cry that echoed off the tiled walls.
The doctor smiled broadly behind his surgical mask, the nurses moved, cleaning the infant and gently before wrapping him tightly in a soft heated blanket.
The Nurse gently laid the bundled baby directly onto Margaux's chest while saying "It's a boy."
She immediately wrapped her arms around the tiny baby.
Duke leaned over the bed, his breath catching in his throat, he stared at the wrinkled, red face of his newborn.
The baby's eyes were squeezed shut against the sudden light, his tiny fists waving blindly in the air.
Duke reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and gently stroked the baby's soft cheek.
"So since he's a boy, I want him to be named Bradley, Bradley Hauser," Duke said softly.
He and Margaux had discussed the possibilities for months, debating names late into the night.
They had agreed early on in the pregnancy, if it was a girl, Margaux would choose the name, and if it was a boy, Duke would have the honor.
He had definitively settled on Bradley, a strong name, grounded, traditional, and serious. They hadn't decided on a middle name yet.
Within a few hours, the intenseness of the birth had faded into a peaceful exhaustion.
Margaux was carefully moved from the delivery room into a private recovery suite, the room was spacious and featured a armchair, fresh cut flowers arranged on a dresser, and thick curtains that kept the winter sunlight out.
Duke refused to leave the room. He had no interest whatsoever in returning to the ranch or a near hotel, nor did he care about the comfortable guest quarters the clinic director had offered him.
He pulled the armchair to the edge of the bassinet and for hours, just watched the baby sleep.
Margaux watched them from the bed, a soft loving smile on her lips, after a while she shifted against the pillows, catching Duke's eye.
"So... look no one can know," she whispered, a reminder of the truth they had mutually accepted months ago.
Both of their careers were high-profile.
In the eyes of the public, she was a model and aspiring actress who was currently on a secretive hiatus.
As for Duke, he was a mogul on one of the only fields where being High-profile could cost the company a lot.
In the cultural climate of 1975, a baby born out of wedlock to high profile parents would trigger a media firestorm.
The tabloids would tear them apart.
Duke nodded slowly, he understood the stakes.
"I know," he replied, his voice leaving no room for doubt. "And no one will. We stick to the plan."
No celebratory press releases sent to the Hollywood trades.
No announcements in the society pages of the Times. The birth certificate would be filed quietly with the local county records office, buried where no entertainment reporter would ever think to look.
Bradley would live here in Idaho, surrounded by mountains and fresh air for a while.
They remained in the clinic for four uninterrupted days, allowing Margaux to fully regain her strength under the eyes of the medical staff.
On the fifth morning, they were finally discharged under the cover of a snowfall.
The nanny from Norland was awaiting for them, and she had already set up a functioning nursery in one of the spare bedrooms.
A trusted vetted local pediatrician was on call, living just one town over and ready to move at a moment's notice.
Security was present, Russell had stationed armed men at the perimeter of the property, ensuring the farmhouse was a locked-down compound, but Duke and Margaux never saw them.
The quiet days that followed settled Duke into a slow peaceful rhythm.
Duke and Margaux slept whenever the baby slept, snatching hours of rest in the middle of the afternoon.
When they were awake, they took short walks outside, bundled up in wool coats with Bradley, Margaux believed a baby needed to get some cold to improve its defenses.
In the cold evenings, they sat together on the sofa, reading books by the fire while Bradley slept in the bassinet nearby.
It was a level of domestic life that Duke had never known neither in this life nor in the past one, and he surprisingly found himself embracing it.
Back in Hollywood, the entertainment industry continued to spin, but Duke had severed the connection.
He answered no calls from the studio. Before leaving Los Angeles, he had given a directive, he was strictly "unavailable" for 3 weeks.
Unless the Paramount lot was physically burning to the ground, the world would simply have to wait.
Margaux, for her part, was recovering with remarkable speed, she seemed to have a natural athletic talent, probably inherited by her Grandfather.
Duke looked at the chonky baby in front of him, Bradley was born weighting 9 pounds, 15 ounces, a big baby, he wondered if Bradley would grow up to be a LineBacker in American Football.
Margaux was 6'0 and Duke was 6'5, so Duke hoped Bradley would reach a good 6'8 or maybe 6'6 by the time he grew.
By the end of the first week, a routine had taken hold, Bradley was a healthy baby, feeding well and sleeping in solid predictable chunks.
Duke quickly learned how to change diapers in the dark without waking the baby entirely and the exact sway and bounce required to rapidly soothe Bradley midnight crying fit.
But the outside world was relentless, when Duke was standing in the kitchen, grinding beans to make a fresh pot of coffee, the secure phone sitting on the counter shattered the quietness.
It rang as Duke frowned and ignored it, slowly pouring hot water over the coffee.
It rang again.
He took a slow sip of his coffee. It rang a third time, then a fourth. 'Is the lot actually on fire?' He cpuldn't help but wonder.
Letting out frustrated sigh, Duke finally picked up the receiver.
"Hauser," he answered.
Even through the crackling long-distance lines, Evans sounded frantic, slurring his words slightly. "Duke! Where the hell are you? The studio is falling apart!" Evans shouted.
Duke grimaced, stepping a little away from the kitchen door, Margaux was asleep down the hall, and he didn't want to wake her up.
He kept his voice extremely low, "I clearly told my office I am on a strict personal leave, Robert. I am unavailable. What is the emergency that required breaking my directive?"
"It's Kubrick! He's demanding authentic candles for lighting! The crew is mutinying! I can't sleep, Duke! The doctors say my heart is giving out, I need a break!"
Duke listened to the rant, staring outside the window. "Hold the line until February. Do not call again." and hung up.
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Father-son Chapter
Have been busy with Uni but i'm not dropping this