Part 3Spoilers Told Me Who Daddy Is

Vaughn Croft finally looked at me. Really looked at me.

His gaze was sharp enough to cut glass, sweeping over my face as if trying to solve a sudden, infuriating puzzle.

"Whose kid is this? Where is production?" he barked, his voice thick with annoyance. "Get her parents. Now."

A young assistant—I later learned his name was Benji—rushed forward, crouching down to gently grab my arm. "Hey there, sweetheart. You can't be on the hot set. Where's your mom?"

I violently yanked my arm away, planting my sneakers firmly into the dirt. I pointed a small, shaking finger right at Vaughn. "He is my dad!"

Whispers erupted around the stage like a lit fuse. The staring eyes felt heavy and suffocating.

Vaughn clearly felt the shift in the atmosphere. He cursed under his breath, stood up, and closed the distance between us in three long strides. He towered over me, a dark eclipse blotting out the studio lights.

He crouched down so we were eye-to-eye. Up close, his eyes were devoid of warmth. "Listen to me, kid. This isn't a funny prank. Who told you to come here and say that?"

"My mommy's name is Camille."

I dropped the name into the quiet space between us like a grenade.

I watched the exact moment the shockwave hit him. His pupils blew wide. The devastatingly composed mask he wore cracked straight down the middle. Looking at his face was like looking in a mirror—we shared the same nose, the same stubborn set of our jaws.

He stared at me for what felt like an eternity. He didn't blink. He hardly breathed.

The text bubbles above us were going absolutely feral.

[HE IS SPIRALING! Look at his hands! He’s literally shaking!]

[Camille is his Achilles heel. I told you!]

[Deny it now, you coward! She is a carbon copy of your face!]

Vaughn’s eyes mapped every inch of my features, desperate for a flaw in the logic, desperate to prove I was a lie.

Instead of speaking, he suddenly reached out and scooped me up into his arms. He spun on his heel and strode purposefully toward a massive black trailer parked on the edge of the lot.

His chest was hard against my cheek. He held me tightly, but it was stiff, awkward—nothing like the soft, enveloping warmth of my mother's embrace.

"Vaughn?" Benji called out, jogging after us in a panic.

"Wrap for the day. Send everyone home," Vaughn threw over his shoulder. He stepped into the trailer and slammed the heavy door shut behind us.