At one point in time, Brad Pitt might well have been considered the most eligible bachelor on Earth. But no more.
Fans have known for some time now about his romance with Ines de Ramon; the pair are said to have planned to celebrated his milestone 60th birthday with a low-key week.
According to PEOPLE, Pitt wasn’t of a mind to go overboard with the celebrations after ushering in his sixth decade on Monday. It surely says quite a bit about his commitment to De Ramon, then, that he wanted to spend his time with her.
Last month, a source is said to have spoken to PEOPLE and described De Ramon, ex-wife of actor Paul Wesley, as “Brad’s first proper relationship since the divorce” from Angelina Jolie.
Indeed, the Troy star is said to have started introducing the 32-year-old as his girlfriend.
“He introduces [Ines] as his girlfriend,” an insider PEOPLE. “It’s great to see him in a good place. Ines makes him very happy.”
It’s been a rocky road back to happiness for Pitt, whose marriage to Angelina Jolie ended in a tumultuous separation, the wounds of which still don’t appear to have fully healed.
Famously dubbed ‘Brangelina’ in the media, the A-listers fell in love on the set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, embarking on a romance that stole headlines all over the world.
In 2016, however, Jolie filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. She also moved to request sole custody of the pairs six children, Maddox, Pax, Shiloh, Zahara, Vivienne and Knox.
On January 21, 2021, Angelina Jolie emailed Brad Pitt, an email which has since then made public. In the email, she mentions that she writes “with a heavy heart” to inform Pitt of her decision to sell Miraval, “a business that is centered around alcohol.” This is perhaps a reference to the now infamous plane event where an intoxicated Pitt “choked” one of their children and then “struck another in the face” before he poured alcohol on her and the kids.
As recently as October did Brad find his name in the headlines for a less than savory reason, after an old Instagram story surfaced wherein his adopted son Pax had labeled him a “f****ing awful human being”.
Pax, who was 16 at the time, expressed his displeasure with his father and warned him “the truth will come to light someday.”
“You time and time and again prove yourself to be a terrible and despicable person,” Pax wrote over an image of his father accepting the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.
“You have no consideration or empathy toward your four youngest children who tremble in fear when in your presence.
“You will never understand the damage you have done to my family because you’re incapable of doing so.
My mother-in-law converted our adopted son’s bedroom into her personal library during our absence, the stern lesson I imparted was severe
The unexpected redesign of our adopted son’s room by my mother-in-law sent shockwaves through our family. The events that followed revealed hidden feelings and truths we hadn’t acknowledged, taking us on a tumultuous journey filled with love, betrayal, and hard-earned lessons that would forever change our family dynamics.
For weeks, I had dedicated myself to creating the perfect space for Max. The joy of finally adopting him had Garrett and me brimming with excitement as we decorated the room with posters of dinosaurs and spaceships, arranged stuffed animals, and stocked the bookshelves with bright, engaging stories.
After putting in so much effort, I turned to Garrett, seeking his reassurance about our work. He wrapped an arm around me and smiled, expressing his belief that Max would adore the room.
Our moment was abruptly interrupted by a knock. Vivian, Garrett’s mother, peeked inside, her expression a mix of surprise and skepticism. She scanned the room, and I felt a wave of unease wash over me as she offered a backhanded compliment about how “vibrant” it looked.
As her gaze fell on the carefully arranged toys, a calculating look crossed her face. She suggested that the room might serve better as a reading nook, implying that Max needed some “intellectual stimulation” to unlock his potential. Her comments felt patronizing, a thinly veiled attempt to take over a space we had lovingly crafted for our son. Garrett and I exchanged concerned glances, sensing the brewing tension. It became increasingly apparent that Vivian’s presence in our home was becoming more of a strain than a comfort.
Garrett attempted to assert our authority as parents, reminding his mother that Max was now part of our family. Vivian, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand, hinting that her connection to him as his grandmother should hold more weight.
As I held back my frustration, I recalled that Vivian was still grieving her husband’s recent death. She had been living with us, and while we thought it would help her heal, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were headed for conflict.
The day before our anniversary getaway, we exchanged hurried goodbyes with Max. His anxious expression tugged at my heart. As my sister Zoe arrived to take care of him while we were away, I noticed Vivian watching from the window, her face unreadable.
Our trip was beautiful, filled with romantic dinners and scenic walks. Yet, an unsettling feeling lingered in the back of my mind. I couldn’t help but worry about what was happening at home. Once we returned, the moment we stepped inside, something felt off. A strange odor wafted through the air. As we made our way upstairs, my stomach sank with each step.
Reaching Max’s room, I stood frozen in disbelief. The bright colors and cheerful décor were gone, replaced by stark bookshelves, a plush chair, and a muted daybed. The walls had lost their vibrant blue hue, leaving a bland beige in its wake.
Garrett’s shocked outburst echoed my feelings as Vivian appeared, her face alight with pride. She called it a surprise, completely oblivious to the destruction she had wrought. I demanded to know where Max’s toys had gone, my anger bubbling to the surface.
Vivian shrugged, claiming that the room now had a “sophisticated” touch that Max needed. I was furious; this was a space meant for a seven-year-old, not a study for an adult. Garrett tried to reason with his mother, but she continued to insist that the changes were for the best. I felt my emotions boiling over as I wondered how she could be so dismissive of our son’s needs.
After Vivian left the room, I collapsed onto the daybed, overwhelmed by the situation. Garrett joined me, sighing in frustration, and we both realized that it was time to establish some boundaries with his mother.
I began to devise a plan. For the next few days, I played the part of the grateful daughter-in-law, expressing my appreciation for her “help” while secretly plotting our response. One morning, I suggested to Vivian that we treat her to a spa day and a special dinner, feigning warmth in my tone. She was thrilled, and as soon as she left, Garrett and I sprang into action.
We transformed her cherished garden into a chaotic playground, uprooting her beloved flowers to make space for a sandbox and scattering toys throughout the area. We even added a small slide, turning her sanctuary into a vibrant play space.
When Vivian returned, I greeted her at the door with an overly cheerful demeanor and a blindfold. As we led her outside, I could barely contain my excitement. Once she stood in front of her wrecked garden, we removed the blindfold. Silence enveloped us for a moment before she gasped in horror at the sight before her.
I feigned innocence, asking if she liked the “playful” new touch. Her horrified response confirmed what I already knew—she had no idea how her actions had affected us, just as we had shown little regard for her beloved garden.
Garrett stepped in to explain that we hadn’t destroyed anything; we had simply repurposed it, much like she had done to Max’s room. The realization hit her hard, and she began to understand the gravity of her decisions.
Tears filled her eyes as she realized the parallel between Max’s room and her garden. We spent the evening in heartfelt conversation, discussing her fears of being replaced and how we could better include her in our family dynamics.
By the end of the night, we had a plan: together, we would restore Max’s room, and Vivian would help us explain the situation to him. She also agreed to seek support for her grief, a step towards healing that we all needed. The following day, we worked together to bring Max’s room back to life. Just as we finished hanging the last poster, we heard his voice calling from the front door.
When Max burst into the room, his face lit up with joy, and he rushed into my arms, relieved to see his space returned to him. I exchanged a knowing glance with Vivian, who offered me a small, remorseful smile. It was a moment of understanding and healing.
That night, we all snuggled together in Max’s room for bedtime stories. As I looked around at my family, I realized that sometimes the most challenging experiences lead to the most profound realizations about love, family, and acceptance.
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