Chapter 2: A Little Tadpole Looking for Its Father

The internet was already on fire.

But none of that chaos had anything to do with what was happening outside the glass doors of KT Star Entertainment on the forty-second floor of a Midtown Manhattan high-rise.

Vivian Rong had just walked out of her audition and passed.

She hadn't even made it to the elevator when her phone erupted.

Once. Twice. Five times in rapid succession.

She glanced at the caller ID and, without a moment's hesitation, held the phone a calculated six inches from her ear.

Smart move.

"VIVIAN RONG." The voice that exploded from the other end was loud enough to rattle the windows. "What in the actual hell is going on?! Why did you suddenly come back to New York without telling me? You said Rosie was at summer camp, Vivian so why is he on every news channel in America calling Ethan Hartwell Daddy?! Start talking. Right now."

Vivian calmly wiggled a finger in her ringing ear, stepped away from a group of wide-eyed interns, and found a quiet alcove near the stairwell.

"It's exactly what it looks like," she said, perfectly composed. "A little tadpole went looking for his father."

A beat of stunned silence.

Then despite himself Nathan Lin nearly choked on a laugh. "Don't you dare change the subject on me. I want answers. What is your history with Ethan Hartwell? Why did you come back? And why are you auditioning at an entertainment agency like you don't have a four-year-old situation currently exploding all over the internet?" His voice dropped half a register, sharpening with genuine worry. "Vivian. What are you actually planning?"

"Oh, you know." She examined her nails. "Nothing as interesting as aphrodisiacs."

"VIVIAN."

She straightened up immediately, holding back a smile. "Okay, okay. Sorry. My relationship with Ethan Hartwell is..." She tilted her head, searching for the right word. "...minimal? Ancient history? A single night that clearly had consequences?" She paused. "Point is he's nothing to me now."

If anything, given certain family technicalities she absolutely refused to explain out loud, Ethan Hartwell should have been calling her something respectful. But that particular thread of logic led somewhere far too complicated, so she left it neatly alone.

"Fine," Nathan said, his voice losing its edge and picking up something more careful. "Then explain to me why you sent Rosie back. Because that" He stopped. "Vivian, that's not like you. I know it's not."

He was right, and they both knew it.

Nathan Lin was the only person on this earth who knew the full shape of what her life had looked like for the past four years. When she'd fled New York at twenty-two with nothing but a carry-on bag and a secret she hadn't yet told anyone, she'd nearly ended up sleeping on the floor of JFK Airport. Nathan had found her. Fed her. Helped her find an apartment in a city where she'd known no one, and quietly slipped her enough money to survive those first brutal months until she could stand on her own feet.

She'd paid back every cent. But the debt she actually owed him had nothing to do with money.

"Vivian." His voice was gentler now. "Talk to me. Don't give me that 'I walked into a door' routine. I won't believe it."

She was quiet for a moment.

She pressed her back against the wall, let her eyes fall shut, and reached out of pure reflex toward her jacket pocket. Her fingers found nothing. Right. She'd quit six months ago. She lowered her hand.

When she spoke again, the teasing lilt was gone.

"You know Rosie's been sick."

Nathan went still on the other end. "...Yeah. I know."

Of course he did. Baby Rosie had been diagnosed at two years old a rare genetic blood disorder that had sent Vivian spiraling into a four-year war against time and medical bills and dead ends. She'd worked three jobs at once. She'd taken Rosie to specialists in four different countries. She'd done everything a mother could do, and then done more.

"So?" he said quietly. And then, a half-second later "Oh."

The pieces clicked into place.

"You're saying the Hartwells have something that can help her."

Vivian's voice was steady, but only because she'd had a long time to practice making it that way. "The Hartwell family funded a private research program about seven years ago. Top genetic disease specialists from around the world, brought together specifically to develop treatments for rare hereditary conditions." She paused. "They have a medication. It doesn't cure it nothing does, not yet. But taken weekly, it controls the progression. It keeps her stable." Another pause, smaller and quieter this time. "I've looked everywhere, Nathan. That formula doesn't exist anywhere else. No other lab has it. No other family has access to it."

She stopped.

The silence stretched between them like something fragile.

"Only Ethan can get it," she finished.

Nathan didn't say anything for a long moment.

Because what was there to say?

Vivian stared at the far wall of the alcove, her beautiful eyes carrying the particular exhaustion of someone who had been fighting alone for too long and had made peace with it anyway.

If she had any other choice any other option she would have taken it.