Charles Wilson and I had been secretly married for 5 years, but he never allowed our biological daughter to call him Dad in public. Every time Aria slipped up, he would crouch down in front of her and patiently correct her. "When the cameras are around, you have to call me Uncle Charles. Remember?" Then his widowed sister-in-law came back from overseas with her son, Liam. Charles took the two of them onto a family reality show and personally fastened the matching wristband, the one meant to represent the "Best Actor's Family," around Liam's wrist. "On the show, you can call me Dad." The day they filmed on the island, Liam shoved Aria, who couldn't swim, into the deep end of a pool right in front of Charles. Terrified, Aria thrashed in the water, screaming for her dad. But after Aria was finally pulled out, Charles stepped in front of Liam, shielding the boy who had pushed her. "Liam is the only child my brother left behind. Aria's fine now. Let's not make this into something bigger than it needs to be." I covered my daughter's eyes before she could look at him again, then dialed a number I hadn't called in 5 years. "Dad, I'll take the position as heir to the Stanford Group." If Charles wanted so badly to be someone else's father, then I would take Aria back to the home that had always truly belonged to us.