Chapter 28
Rose
Christmas had been small, just as they’d planned.
There were still cameras, of course, but the usual army of production assistants was gone.
It was just a two-man skeleton crew moving quietly through the shadows of the rooms, their lighting rigs tucked away into the corners to keep the house feeling like a home rather than a set.
It felt less like a production and more like they were being watched by two very quiet ghosts.
In the glow of the tree, Quinn wore a paper crown, and Rose’s mother sat in her matching pajamas. Kayla had her feet tucked under her on the sofa, while Craig and Peter argued cheerfully about something inconsequential in the kitchen doorway.
The episode had aired on the twenty-seventh. The numbers had made Pat go quiet for a full thirty seconds before she whispered, “We’ve broken the platform.”
But Christmas itself—the parts the cameras didn’t catch—had been theirs.
Rose’s mother had cooked enough for a small army.
Lizanne had worn the matching pajamas without a word of protest, carrying herself with the committed dignity of someone who had decided to win at Christmas through sheer force of character.
When Daisy, who had received a children’s telescope, finally found Andromeda at eleven-fifteen PM, her shriek was loud enough to wake the house, long after the crew had packed up and gone home.
It was the kind of day Rose used to build in her head when Daisy was a baby—back when the nights were long and the apartment walls were thin.
She hadn’t pictured it in a movie star’s home, attended by an overzealous personal assistant, a Hollywood power agent and his husband, and a camera crew.
But it was, in fact, even better. If only Jeremy wasn’t still lingering in the back of her mind.
He’d written again, a Christmas card this time, promising he’d continue to try until she gave in.
She’d ripped the card up again. But she couldn’t deny that he was beginning to cloud this perfect world she’d built for herself.
***
By the time it was time to get back to their routine, Daisy had been out of school for two weeks.
An arrangement she’d decided should be permanent and which she was determined to make a reality.
She sat on the edge of her bed, arms crossed tightly over her yellow uniform.
In her view, school was a redundant concept.
She had everything she needed here: Biscuit, Professor, the playroom, the pool, and two adults who could answer her questions.
“I don’t want to go to school,” she declared for the 5th time.
“Alfredo will be there,” Rose said, leaning against the doorframe.
Daisy didn’t move.
“And Priya. And Max with the dinosaur backpack,” Lizanne added.
“Max shares his snacks,” Daisy said. The admission came slowly.
“He does.”
“Alfredo knows every single word to the penguin song.”
“He does.”
Daisy looked at her shoes. “Fine. Will you both take me?”
“Of course,” Lizanne said and took Daisy’s hand, as if she’d always been in their lives.
The camera crew met them at the gate. Rose had been unmovable about Daisy and the lenses from day one. Two weeks ago, she’d negotiated a single compromise: Shots from behind only. The audience saw a yellow hat and a small backpack. No faces. It was a boundary Rose had drawn and meant to keep.
Rose saw the crowd before the car reached the curb. Dozens of them—phones up, long lenses out. A typical Monday morning school run in their new reality. Rose stepped out, opened the rear door, and crouched to fix Daisy’s hat, shielding her from the clicking shutters.
“Have a good day, Bug.”
“I will.” Daisy hugged her. Then, Daisy hugged Lizanne too, a brief, firm squeeze, then grabbed her bag and marched toward the entrance.
Rose stood. She looked at the brick of the school building, got back in the car, and closed the door.
The camera crew peeled off at the corner. Rose opened her laptop in the passenger seat to dig through her inbox, while Lizanne drove toward their favorite coffee spot. The email from her lawyer sat halfway down the screen.
She read the subject line.
Custody Demand.
Something cold turned over in her chest. She read it again. Then she set the laptop on her knees and stared out through the windscreen at the ordinary morning moving past her window, at a world that had no idea what she’d just read.
“Rose.” Lizanne’s voice came from a distance. “What is it?”
“Pull over.”
When she had done it, Rose turned the screen toward her. She didn’t trust her voice yet.
Lizanne read it.
Jeremy Planter. Daisy’s father. The man who had walked out before Daisy could even stand.
In four years, he had sent two letters, both through an intermediary, both complaining about child support he couldn’t afford.
Then she’d heard nothing for two years. Until the cards.
He had been like a bad dream. Now, the bad dream was filing for custody.
The letter cited Rose’s deliberate concealment of the child. It mentioned a media circus and the instability of the fake relationship.
“How can he be serious? He’s been out of the picture for years!”
“Not exactly,” Rose said. Her voice came out thin and unsteady. “He sent a card to Daisy on her birthday and then again at Christmas and I—I didn’t tell you. I tore them up. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away.”
Lizanne didn’t speak immediately. When she did, her voice was quiet and careful.
“I knew about the birthday card. I didn’t know about the Christmas one. You should have told me. I’m not angry,” Lizanne said. “But we can’t be keeping things from each other. Not about this. Not about Daisy. I cannot be the last person in the room to find out something this important.”
Rose pressed her hand flat against the laptop. “I know. I know that now.” She looked out the window. “I don’t know what to do. What if he gets her? What…”
“He is not getting near her.” Lizanne said it the way she said things she meant absolutely. She grabbed Rose’s hand. “We’ll get in front of this. Don’t worry. You have a lawyer right?”
“Yes but…he’s saying I hid her. That’s not true. The court knows where we live. He could have easily found out.” The wobble in Rose’s voice was back. “What if he goes to the press? What if he …”
“Rose.”
Rose stopped.
“None of that is going to happen,” Lizanne said. “We call your lawyer. Right now. It will all be alright.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No,” Lizanne said. “But I can promise you aren’t doing this alone. Every resource I have—everything I’ve built—goes toward keeping Daisy exactly where she is.”
Rose looked at her. Her eyes were burning, but she didn’t look away.
“Call your lawyer,” Lizanne said.
***
Later that afternoon, Daniel Reiss sat at the head of the dining table, his legal pad centered in front of him.
He was an old school sort of guy, pen and paper vs.
tablets and laptops. Sitting around the table were Quinn, Kayla, Pat, Craig, and Rose’s mom, who was on her right, holding her hand, while Lizanne did the same on her left.
Reiss didn’t waste time on a preamble.
“Jeremy Planter has very little to work with,” Reiss said.
“He left the state when Daisy was an infant. He hasn’t paid child support.
He has no documented contact with her in years.
No relationship exists. What he has is a television show suggesting Rose has money now. That brings out people like this.”
“He’s a loser,” Quinn muttered. “Always has been. No court is giving that man custody of a houseplant.”
“Quinn,” Kayla warned.
“I’m not wrong.”
“You aren’t,” Reiss agreed, “but keep that framing off the record. The arrears are our strongest leverage. Plus the debt he left you with. Any judge will look at years of non-payment and total absence before they look at anything else.”
“What does he want?” Pat asked.
Quinn leaned forward. “Money. Every time he’s surfaced, it’s been about money.”
“Then we give it to him,” Lizanne said.
Rose turned to her.
“A settlement,” Lizanne continued. “Whatever number makes him disappear. It’s faster. It keeps us out of a courtroom.”
“No,” Rose said.
Lizanne held her gaze, but Rose didn’t flinch.
“No,” Rose repeated. “He left. He stayed gone for years. Now he sees an opportunity and wants a payout for leaving again? I’m not paying him for that. I’ll fight him in court. He isn’t getting anything else from me.”
The room went quiet. Craig loosened his tie.
“I have to put the reality on the table,” Craig said. “A public custody battle damages the show. Both shows. The production company has a massive investment. A protracted legal fight—especially one that brings the original contract and the loan into discovery—will make them very uncomfortable.”
Rose knew what he was referring to. The contract showing just how Rose got involved with all of this. How this was actually meant to be Lizanne’s wedding to Trina. And how their marriage was one for show. Until it became real. But who would believe them?
“The network’s comfort isn’t my priority,” Lizanne said.
“I know. I’m saying it’s a factor.” Craig looked at Rose. “I’m not telling you not to fight. I’m saying know the full cost.”
Pat looked up from her tablet. “Craig is right about the exposure. I’m less worried about the network than I am about the three of you. A public trial is brutal.”
Rose looked at the table. “If this goes to court, how long?”
“Twelve to eighteen months in LA County. Longer if there’s an appeal.”
Eighteen months. Rose let the number sit in the air.
“What’s the first step?” Rose asked.
“I want to respond to his lawyer aggressively,” Reiss said.
“I’ll lay out the arrears, the absence, and the lack of contact.
I want them to understand we will litigate this fully.
He needs to know that his sudden interest in fatherhood—timed perfectly with a television debut—will not look good to a judge. ”
“Do it,” Rose said.
“And if he wants to negotiate after that?” Lizanne asked.
“No negotiations. He goes away. That’s it.” Rose paused, tapping her finger on the table. “I wonder how he’s paying for all of this.”
“That is a good question,” Pat replied.
“One more thing,” Reiss added. “Keep this off the air. No references, no confessionals. Don’t give them an opening to claim you’re influencing public opinion.”
“Agreed,” Pat said.
Rose looked at the faces around her—Quinn’s tight jaw, Kayla’s steady presence, Pat, Craig, and the lawyer. Finally, she looked at Lizanne, whose arm was pressed against hers.
“Then let’s get on with it,” Rose said.