Chapter 1

The second the jumbotron lit up, the father-daughter photo hit me like a slap.

The lights were blinding. Two hundred cameras rose from the press pit in one motion. I hadn't even registered the little girl in Harrison Goodman's arms before the shutter burst went off like gunfire.

Harrison stood center stage in a black suit, collar buttoned to the top. He held the child close, one hand pressing gently against her back, as if shielding her from the flashstorm.

He murmured something to soothe her, then lifted his gaze. Across the entire room, he found me.

Winnie, take off your ring first, he said.

My left hand was still on my knee. The engagement ring caught the stage light and blazed.

There was a second of silence.

Then the press corps lost it.

Mr. Goodman, what are you saying?

Is that actually your daughter?

Aren't you and Winnie getting married next month?

So is this a paternity announcement or a broken engagement?

I sat in the front row, still in the white dress meant for our joint interview. Two hours ago, the glam team laughed, saying the internet would break when Harrison put that diamond back on my finger.

They weren't wrong about the internet breaking.

But I wasn't the one being introduced.

*****

I didn't move. The little girl on stage clearly had no clue what all the fuss was about. She wrapped her arms around Harrison's neck and called out in that sweet, innocent tone, "Daddy."

That single word made the whole place erupt. Someone behind me sucked in a breath, and the brand rep next to me whipped his head around, his expression shifting instantly.

The makeup artist, off to the side, froze with her powder puff suspended in midair. Even the host went stiff, clutching the cue card so hard it creased.

Harrison kept his eyes locked on me, his voice calm and firm. "Take it off. Don't let her see."

The flashbulbs below went wild. I finally raised my left hand and looked down at the ring. He'd put it on my finger two weeks ago, right after a night shoot by the ocean.

He'd cleared everyone out, the sea breeze messing up his hair, and when he opened the box and looked at me, his eyes were shining.

He said, "Winnie, let's stop dragging this out." He promised, "Once the new movie premieres, I'll go public with you."

I believed him. Because for the past three years, his specialty was making me wait for my turn in the spotlight, a little longer, until everything was perfect.

I waited all the way to today, only to see him holding another kid, standing in front of everyone online, telling me to take off the ring.

My fingers curled tighter. Everyone was staring at me. The superfan who'd been shadowing me with her camera shoved her lens right up to my left hand, dying to catch a close-up of me taking off the ring, hoping to snag tonight's first trend topic.

Harrison saw I wasn't moving and called out again, "Winnie." This time, his voice had a heavy, commanding edge, like he was warning me, "Don't do anything stupid, don't make things hard for him, don't scare the kid, and don't ruin my dignity too much."

I suddenly felt like laughing. He always patched up his dignity with mine.

With camera shutters snapping all around me, I stood up. The assistant next to me started to reach for me, but quickly pulled her hand back. I walked toward the stage in my high heels, my dress trailing behind me.

The only thing you could hear was the click of my heels against the floor. The host instinctively tried to block my way, but I shot him a look, and he stepped aside. I came to a stop right in front of Harrison.

Up close, I finally got a good look at the kid's face. Her eyes were like his, same nose, cheeks a little plump, and her hair was tied up with a pink scrunchie. She was nestled in his arms, watching me with open curiosity.

Harrison lowered his voice. "Winnie, don't make a scene."

"What am I making a scene for?" I kept my voice low, loud enough for the front-row mics to catch. His face darkened.

I lifted my hand and slowly slipped the ring off my finger. The cameras below went wild. Harrison's expression relaxed a little, like he was finally relieved I'd come to my senses.

But I didn't hand the ring to him, and I didn't cry or make a scene. I slipped it into the breast pocket of his suit, my movements gentle, smoothing out the pocket for him.

Then I looked up at him. "I'm giving your ring back."

He said softly, "Winnie, "

"Hold her tight," I said, glancing at the little girl in his arms. "Don't let her fall."

The room went dead silent. I didn't give him another chance to speak and turned to leave the stage. Suddenly, the little girl reached out and grabbed the diamond earring hanging from my ear.

She yanked my head to the side, making my earlobe sting. Harrison gently pried her fingers away, his voice softening. "Stella, let go."

He'd already picked out a name for her. I stood there, watching him bend down to comfort the child.

Suddenly, I realized that he must've rehearsed this scene a thousand times in his mind. But in all those rehearsals, I was never part of the script.

When the kid finally let go, one of my earrings dropped to the stage with a faint sound. I looked down, but didn't bother picking it up.

Harrison had brought it back for me from Amiston last year, when he was shooting an ad. He said it suited me, told me to save it for the day we went public. Now that it had dropped, it felt strangely appropriate.

I turned and walked off stage. The front row had already parted to make a path. Everyone was staring, in sympathy, thrills, waiting for me to break.

I made my way to the exit, my phone blowing up with calls, my agent, Sophie Reed, the brand, the studio, the media, even my mom. I didn't answer a single one.

As soon as I stepped out of the venue, Sophie came running after me in her high heels, her face as pale as a sheet. "Winnie, don't go any further. There are reporters everywhere."

"Let them shoot all they want," I said.

"Keep quiet for now," she said, grabbing my wrist. "Harrison hasn't made an official statement yet."

I turned to look at her. "So what?"

Sophie bit her lip. "Go back to the lounge. Let's sort things out first."

"What's left to figure out?" I pulled her hand off me. "The kid's in his arms. The ring's in his pocket. And I'm on the trend topic."

My voice wasn't loud, but Sophie was suddenly lost for words. Outside, the place was packed with people. Flashbulbs kept blasting through the glass doors, like a rainstorm of light.

Just then, my phone buzzed again. It was a trending alert on Twitter with hashtags, [Harrison Goodman's Daughter], [Winnie Watson Take Off The Ring], and [Harrison Goodman's Ex Fiancee Out.]

I tapped in, and the top trend topic was a crystal-clear GIF. It was Harrison on stage, holding his daughter, eyes fixed on me.

The netizen's caption? It read: [The queen steps down, the princess takes her throne.]

The second post was a close-up of me taking off the ring. It read: [That look on her face, like she could murder the kid.]

The third was harsher. It read: [No wonder he kept it under wraps. Turns out Harrison already had a daughter. Winnie was the failed stand-in.]

I turned off my phone and walked away. Sophie hurried after me. "Where are you going?"

"Backstage."

"What are you going backstage for?"

I didn't look back. "I want to see how my spotlight got hijacked and turned into a parent-child publicity circus."

The backstage hallway stretched on, the lights cold and glaring, my footsteps echoing louder with every step. The further I walked, the quieter it got.

The sign for [Harrison & Winnie Watson Couple Interview] had already been ripped down, replaced with a fresh sheet taped to the door: [Harrison Media Crisis Room.]

I stood at the door, staring at that sheet for a couple of seconds before pushing it open. Everyone inside looked up at once, Harrison's PR director, his assistant, his stylist, the event coordinator, and the nanny for the kid.

On the table was a stack of documents, and the top page had bold words that stabbed at my eyes: [Parent-Child Reveal Press Conference.]

It wasn't some last-minute accident or chaos that broke out on the spot, or he didn't have time to warn me. This was all set up from the start.