He relaxed a little when I said that, like he’d been afraid it was something worse, but accusation still colored his tone. "Maren told me that Kari was doing better, that she was out doing events to pay off her debts."

"That was me too," I said. “Kari was working on her album.”

"The album that’s not done.”

I prickled on her behalf. "She wanted to come up with hit songs on her own, so you would be proud of her.” This wasn’t exactly what Kari had said. She had said she wanted to come up with hit songs to prove to him that she could do it, and maybe I was transferring my own motivations to Kari—but I didn’t think so. She had a whole roomful of ceramic cats because he had given her some as a child. She wanted his approval.

His gaze went to the door, and his voice came out terse. "Well, I’m real proud right now.” Then he turned and left the room without another word.

As soon as he had gone, a surge of panic washed over me. I’d met my father and hadn’t said one thing I’d meant to. When would I have the chance to speak to him again? I walked out into the hallway in time to see him leading Maren by the elbow into another waiting room two doors down the hallway.

I hurried down the hall, but then paused in front of the door. It was open a sliver, but I didn't go inside. What would I say? Should I wait until he came out to try and talk to him?

I opened the door a bit more, but neither of them noticed me. They stood face-to-face, oblivious to interruptions. Alex Kingsley’s hands were on his hips. Maren's were folded across her chest. Their voices were low, but as fierce as if they’d been yelling.

Maren said, "I’m taking care of Kari's reputation while she gets help. Do you really want the tabloids parading her problems out for the whole nation to see? Do you want Kari Kingsley jokes told on the late-night programs for the next ten years? What will that do for her career? What will that do to her as a person? You should thank me for this. I did it for you."

He gave her a daggered look. "When I told you to keep an eye on her, this wasn’t what I wanted, and you know it. I bailed that girl out of her bad decisions for years, and the reason she hasn’t changed yet is that whenever she makes a mess of things, there's always someone else around to clean it up for her. She doesn’t need more people to rescue her, she needs to grow up and take responsibility for herself. If that means she has to cancel a concert and refund some money—so be it."

I should have spoken, cleared my throat—done something to let them know I stood in the doorway. But I didn’t. I didn’t even open the door further. I couldn’t intrude on such a heated conversation. Besides, watching Alex Kingsley speak hypnotized me into silence.

Maren stepped toward him, hands upward. "There’s no need to cancel the concert now. Kari’s double can do the job. The fans will be much happier that way.”

He cocked his head in disbelief. "You’re worried about the fans? Can you imagine what the press would say if they caught wind of a fake performing her concert?”

Maren shrugged as though it didn’t matter. "If you want, I’ll fire the double, but she’s been performing as Kari for weeks. She’ll keep quiet about this. I'll make sure of it."

I could see him clench his jaw, but he didn’t yell at her. His voice came out with taut restraint. "You go let the crowd know that Kari can't do the concert and they’re entitled to a refund. If they want to stick around—fine. I’ll sing a few songs for them and might be able to talk Grant into doing a few too. Go do it now. We’ll discuss your lack of judgment later.”

His words snapped me out of my trance. I didn’t want them to see me in the doorway and realize I’d listened to the whole thing. I turned and hurried back down the hallway to the green room.

I needed to figure out what to do next. Alex Kingsley would be here for a while. What would be the best way to talk to him, to explain why I'd done all this? A minute later, Maren flung the door open and stormed over to me. Before I knew what was happening, she drew back her hand and slapped me.

I stared at her openmouthed, stung as much by surprise as by the force of her blow. I hadn’t thought professional women actually slapped people. The old Alexia might have slapped her back, but I had no desire to do it now. I was better than that.

"That’s for being so . . . incredibly . . . stupid," Maren hissed at me. "Everything would have worked out fine if you’d done your job and stayed away from Grant Delray. But no, you couldn’t be happy with the money—you had to go for other perks. And now you’ve ruined everything.” I hadn't thought her eyes could grow harder, but they did. "You’re finished. Your driver will take you to the airport. Get on the next plane to West Virginia and never tell anyone about any of this. If you do—”

“You’ll charge me with identity theft,” I finished for her.

She smiled with satisfaction, and I wondered how she could do that—go from yelling to a smile like nothing existed in between. “You’re getting smarter already.” She turned on her heel and went out the door before I could say anything else.

I put my hand to my cheek trying to erase the throb of her slap. How long did I have until security escorted me to the car? I looked around for my street clothes and saw them sitting on the counter. I had started toward them when the door opened. I expected it to be Maren again, giving me more departure instructions. Instead Alex Kingsley stepped into the room. Anger laced his expression, but his voice stayed even. “We're canceling the concert and Kari won’t need a double anymore, so you can go on home.” He eyed me over, and a muscle twitched near his jaw. "Besides leading on Grant, what else did you do while you were pretending to be my daughter?”

I stared back at him without flinching. "I lip-synched songs, signed autographs, and visited a hospital full of sick kids."

He gave a humorless laugh. “Is that how you justified this to yourself—you visited sick kids, so it was okay to swindle thousands of people? You're lucky I don’t turn the two of you in to the police and let everyone know what you’ve done. I swear I would, except I think Maren really meant to help, and you look too much like my daughter for me to haul you off to jail.” His gaze ran over me again. "It's downright eerie. But I will tell you one thing—that money you brought in—it’s going to charity. Neither you nor Kari is keeping a dime of it.” He threw me one last disdainful gaze. "And I’ll give you a piece of advice, young lady. Next time you take a job, make sure you bring your ethics along."

In all my fantasies about meeting my father, not once did I ever think he’d be chewing me out. Everything I'd planned to say to him, my thoughts of being either forgiving or aloof evaporated from my mind. I was angry, and I wanted to hurt him. "Maybe I inherited my sense of ethics from my father.”

"Your father? Who’s that?”

"You'd do better to ask who my mother is.”

He tilted his chin down, humoring me. "Fine. Who's your mother?"

I said the words slowly, waiting to see every inch of his reaction. "Sabrina Garcia.”

No recognition passed through his eyes. None. I hated him at that moment.

He shrugged, annoyance creeping into his voice. "Should I know who that is?”

"Yes, you should.” I put one hand on my hip. "Ask me who my father is again.”

His gaze drifted up to the wall clock. "Listen, I’ve said what I came to say to you—"

"But I haven't," I cut him off. "You’re my father. You. Alex Kingsley.”

Instead of registering any shock, he raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Miss, you’ve got a bad case of believing your own press. You’re not Kari, and I’ve never seen you before in my life.”