The California Sun dipped below the Horizon, casting an orange glow across the sprawling Kardashian estate. Kourtney Kardashian, her face etched with a nervous resolve, paced the pristine living room. Tonight was the night. Tonight, she would finally tell Scott Disick the truth about their newest child, Rocky.

Kourtney tells Scott Disick that Rocky is his True son

Scott, ever the charmer, sauntered in. His designer suit contrasted sharply with Kourtney’s simple sundress. “Hey, Court,” he greeted, a playful glint in his eyes. “What’s the big occasion? You look like you’re about to give a deposition.”

Kourtney forced a smile. “Actually, Scott, there’s something important we need to talk about,” she gestured towards the plush couch, her voice barely a whisper. Scott’s smile faltered slightly. He wasn’t used to seriousness from Kourtney, especially not when it came to their past. He settled down cautiously, a flicker of unease crossing his features.“It’s about Rocky,” Kourtney began, her voice trembling slightly. “There’s something you need to know.”

Scott scoffed. “Come on, Court, we both know the drill. IVF, multiple failed attempts, miracle baby. What else is there?”

Kourtney took a deep breath. “Scott,” she said, her voice gaining strength, “Rocky isn’t mine. He isn’t Travis’s.”

Scott’s eyes widened in disbelief. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “What are you talking about? You’re losing it, Court.”

“I’m serious, Scott,” Kourtney pressed on, tears welling in her eyes. “The day you showed up drunk at my fertility clinic, arguing with the staff, remember?”

A flicker of recognition passed through Scott’s clouded gaze. Shame flushed his cheeks. “Yeah, I messed up,” he mumbled.

“You messed up more than you know,” Kourtney continued, her voice firm. “There was a mix-up with the sperm samples. That day, Rocky…he’s yours, Scott.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air. Scott stared at Kourtney, his face a mask of shock and confusion. Years of partying and bad decisions seemed to catch up with him in that moment. “That’s…that’s impossible,” he stammered. “How could this happen?”

“It did,” Kourtney said, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. “And for the past year, you’ve been a father to your own son without even knowing it.”

Silence descended upon the room, broken only by Scott’s ragged breaths. Denial flickered in his eyes, then a flicker of something else—perhaps a flicker of paternal awakening. “So, all this time,” Scott rasped, his voice barely audible, “he’s mine?”

Kourtney nodded, tears streaming down her face now. “Yes, Scott. Rocky is your son.”

The weight of the revelation settled on Scott’s shoulders. He looked at pictures of Rocky scattered on the coffee table: chubby cheeks, bright eyes, a mischievous grin—a grin that, in that moment, seemed eerily familiar. A storm of emotions swirled within Scott: regret for the years lost, a tinge of anger at the cruel twist of fate, and a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time—paternal love.

The revelation wasn’t a fairy tale. There were arguments, tears, and unresolved issues from their past. But there was also a tentative peace, a sense of co-parenting that surprised even them.

In the days that followed, Scott found himself spending more time with Rocky, seeing himself in the little boy’s eyes and actions. Kourtney, too, felt a strange sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted. They began to navigate their new reality together, learning to put aside their differences for the sake of their child.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. And sometimes, a start is all you need.