The flashing cameras didn't stop, not even when her knees buckled.
Selene Rivera stood on the red carpet, drenched in light and whispers. Tonight should have been her coronation. The night she finally won "Artist of the Year." Instead, the smile she wore was painted on, the kind that cracked if you looked too long. Her champagne-colored gown hugged her frame like a betrayal, and every step felt like walking through shards.
She had survived worse. The music industry was war. She fought with melody, with a voice that sold out arenas and made grown men cry. But what she couldn't fight was the scandal.
Axton LaRoche.
His name wasn't supposed to be in her mouth again. Not after what he did. Not after the deal she signed, the silence she agreed to. But secrets never die in Hollywood. They just fester in silence until they explode.
POP STAR SELENE RIVERA IN SECRET AFFAIR WITH BILLIONAIRE CEO AXTON LAROCHE.
The headline was everywhere, plastered across every gossip site. Worse, there was video. Grainy, stolen footage. A kiss too intimate. A hand on her thigh. A night she thought was hers alone.
Now, the world watched her like she was a car crash in a ball gown.
She turned from the cameras. Her manager barked her name, but she couldn't breathe. Not here. Not while they devoured her.
Backstage, the air was colder. She locked herself in her dressing room and peeled off the earrings that weighed like guilt. Her hands trembled. Her phone buzzed with calls from people she didn't trust anymore. Her mother. Reporters. Axton's assistant.
She ignored them all. Until the name that made her soul stop appeared.
Pregnancy Test - Positive.
She read it again. And again.
Her vision blurred.
This couldn't be happening.
She was twenty-one. At the height of her fame. She had a world tour scheduled in two months. She had endorsements, contracts, obligations that couldn't coexist with a baby bump.
And worst of all: Axton couldn't know.
He would use it. Twist it. Control her with it.
She dropped the phone like it burned.
She needed to disappear.
No goodbye tour. No press conference. No farewell.
Just vanish.
---
Eight months later, in a quiet town far from flashing lights and L.A. poison, Selene Rivera became someone else. A ghost with a new name, a new life, and a new reason to fight.
Her name was now Maya. She worked at a bookstore, wore oversized sweaters, and sang only to her unborn daughter, late at night, when no one was listening.
But she never forgot who she was.
She never forgot who he was.
And as her stomach grew, so did the promise she made to herself.
No one will ever hurt you the way I was hurt.
That night, as the wind howled outside her one-bedroom apartment, Selene cradled her belly and whispered to the child inside:
"You will be more than me. More than him. More than all of it. But you will never sing. I will protect you from that world. Even if it kills me."
Outside, snow began to fall.
And far away, on the cover of Forbes, Axton LaRoche smiled like he hadn't destroyed someone.
---
Eighteen Years Later
"You're late."
Ariella Rivera rolled her eyes and pulled off her earbuds. Her mother stood in the doorway, arms folded, apron dusted in flour. Her hair was shorter now, streaked with silver.
"Practice ran over," Ariella mumbled.
"Singing again?"
Ariella stiffened. "It's a school showcase, Mom. Not the Grammys."
Selene's voice lowered. "I told you. No music. Not seriously."
Ariella dropped her bag. "Why? Because you couldn't handle fame? That's your past, not mine."
The slap didn't come, but the silence was worse.
Selene turned away. "Dinner's getting cold."
Ariella didn't follow.
Instead, she stood alone in the hallway, her fists clenched, her throat aching with songs that had nowhere to go.
In her pocket buzzed a message from her best friend:
"Contest in L.A. – winner gets $1M record deal. You in?"
Ariella looked down the hall, toward the kitchen, toward the mother who locked her past in a box and threw away the key.
She typed one word back:
"Yes."