"Hello?"

The young man's tired, deep voice echoes around his empty apartment.

The shrill ringing of his phone had jolted him awake from his unplanned nap on the sofa after a long day of press and interviews.

"Hi, this is LA PD, is this Mr Wiley speaking?" The woman on the other end of the phone responds.

This causes him to shoot out of his seat in alarm and panic whilst his expression instantly falls into a frown.

"...yes? Why, has something happened?" He asks, uncertainty dripping from his tone.

He wonders for a moment if in actuality, he's still asleep trapped reliving the day he received the call that his mother and father were killed in a tragic car accident all over again.

"I'm sorry to say we aren't able to disclose this matter over the phone. Are you able to come down to the department as soon as possible? It's unfortunately urgent."

The police woman tried to make her tone as gentle and sympathetic as possible which did nothing to stop the young man conjuring up endless theories of what could have happened in his mind.

His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands shakily held the phone to his ear as he tried to convince himself that his beloved family members were safe and that nobody had died.

He'd lost his parents at such a young age. He couldn't bare the thought of losing anyone else, specifically his older brother who acted more like a father figure.

"Yeh...I'll be there as soon as possible."

He chocked out before pressing the red 'end call' button and shoving his phone in the pocket of his black jeans.

On unsteady legs, he wobbled over to his walk in wardrobe in search of an oversized black hoodie to hide his identity from prying paparazzi.

He pulled it over his head, messing up his soft red hair and tightened the drawstrings around his face; finishing the disguise with a large pair of black sunglasses despite it being dark outside.

His journey down the elevator from his penthouse to the private, secluded car park was a blur.

He was walking like a zombie; not fully present and stumbling from time to time.

He barely registered the painfully long journey to LA's police department and was only brought back to reality by the flash of the intrusive paparazzi's cameras that were shoved in his face.

His distinctive features mixed with his ever growing fame made it impossible for him to step outside of his residence without being harassed by them.

He usually basked in it but in rare vulnerable moments such as this, he saw it as a curse.

He barged past them, keeping his eyes to the ground, shielding his face from the cameras as he sped into the the large building infront of him.

The LA police department was always bustling with life no matter the time of day or year. The crimes committed in Los Angeles had no limits. Officers were kept on their toes from dawn to dusk rushing between crime scenes to prisons and then eventually, back to the department.

Although to him it felt like someone had pressed pause on his life, the people working around him continued to whizz past him nearly knocking him off balance more then once.

At least they don't recognise me he thought. Or maybe they just didn't care to.

Once he eventually reached the front desk, he was greeted with more sympathy and lead to a private meeting room where a young officer sat awaiting his presence behind a cluttered desk.

"Hi, Mr Wiley?" She questioned him, professionalism forcing her to pretend she didn't already know exactly who he was.

There shouldn't be a person in the whole of LA that doesn't know who he is, or doesn't recognise his face at the very least.

After all, it had been plastered on billboards all over the state for years now. He became a well known actor as a young child and has only grown in popularity and success ever since.

He only manages to nod his head in confirmation while standing as stiff as a board, his arms crossed infront of his chest.

"Take a seat." She offered, gesturing with her hand to the chair infront of her desk whilst the person that had lead him there left the room and shut the door behind him.

He hesitantly took a seat, still remaining tense and on edge.

"Unfortunately two days ago your daughter's mother was found shot dead in her home in England. Your daughter is fine but is now in your full custody since you are named as her biological father on her birth certificate."

The woman explains in a condescending, empathetic tone whilst the young man infront of her tries to refrain from scoffing at the words spewing from her mouth.

He doesn't have a daughter. He's basically a child himself. He certainly acts like one.

"Um, I'm sorry but I think you've got the wrong Mr Wiley. I'm twenty two. I don't have a daughter." He states, the tremors in his bones coming to a halt as he realises this is all one big misunderstanding.

"There's no mistaking you're Kian Wiley. Your face is everywhere in this city. I understand perhaps you weren't informed of your daughters existence but your name is on her birth certificate which is the only document they were able to find." The officer explains as carefully as possible. It was part of the job to break such delicate news with care and consideration.

The stubborn young man shakes his head profusely and stands from his seat.

"Well it was obviously faked. You should know fans do anything to get my attention or drag my name through the mud." He snaps back, glaring at the innocent woman who's job has now been made increasingly more difficult.

"We could do a DNA test to make sure if you like?" She scrambles to her feet, desperate to keep him there for the sake of the poor distraught little girl.

"I'm sorry but like I said, you're the only relative of hers we could find so she has nobody else. If she truly is yours and you aren't able to take her into your care we could put her up for adoption but you'll still legally have to be involved in the process if you turn out to be a DNA match."

The woman continues to persuade the man who is in complete denial.

His frustration levels rise as he seems to be pulled deeper and deeper into this mess with each passing second.

If the public were to catch wind of this it would blow up and his reputation would be damaged until it's officially proven to be a false rumour.

There are now pictures of him entering LA PD thanks to the paparazzi that he could vividly picture being on the front page of news articles.

Not to mention, his family would find out.

What would his older brother say?

He'd tease him endlessly. Kian couldn't let that happen.

"What if I say no?" He asks, his argument becoming weaker as he realises the seriousness of the situation he's in.

He tries to avoid all thoughts of the poor orphan child and focuses all of his attention on his annoyance.

"We can't force you to get a paternity test but the court will take refusal to participate as you being the biological father. They'll have no evidence to suggest otherwise. You'll forever be listed as her dad unless you take a test to prove you aren't." The officer responds exercising a well needed chunk of patience with the argumentative celebrity infront of her.

It helps that he isn't such a sore sight for eyes either. In any other circumstance he would be rather charming.

Kian lets out a deep sigh of aggravation and balls his fists.

"Fine. I'll take a stupid test just make it quick." He grumbles out.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Kiara sat contently on a large, cream sofa in her social carer's house.

She was happy to sit watching one of her favourite films, Nemo, so long as she was cuddling her favourite turtle teddy.

Her mother had bought it for her when she was born and the three year old couldn't live without it.

Once she started talking, she started naming it 'crush' which her mother eventually learnt was because it looked just like the one from Finding Nemo.

The social worker sat at her dining table nearby, holding her breath hoping and praying that the toddler doesn't ask about her mother again and have yet another meltdown asking for her 'mama'.

They had just been to the doctors office to take some of Kiara's blood for a paternity test that her father was insisting on having.

The poor child screamed down the building upon seeing the big pointy needle and threw a ten minute tantrum in refusal to keep still for the injection.

It was only once she had burnt all of her energy crying were they able to keep her still long enough for the nurse to take her blood.

Now, hours later she was minutes away from passing out after having sat watching disney films for the remainder of the day whilst Donna, her social worker awaited the phone call with the paternity results.

Once her phone eventually rang, she moved to the far corner of her kitchen and kept her voice hushed as to not disturb the toddler on the sofa.

"The samples were a match. He's her father. We've already contacted the Los Angeles Police Department and told them. They're going to convince him to travel down here so we can sort out what happens from then on."

The English officer informs Donna who lets out a sigh at the news.

"Okay, give me a call back as soon as you hear from them again please." Donna responded professionally before they both hung up and went back to their own buisness.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

A/n. As of 25/08/2023 i'm slowly re-editing each chapter of this story since I still get so many new readers each day! Thank you for choosing to read this series, I hope you love it🫶🏻🥺