Someone was knocking on my door. I was sure I had imagined it at first. A happy side effect of living alone in the middle of nowhere. So I ignored it and went back to sleep. Beside me, Kyler was muttering in his sleep. He had started doing that after his father died. It was almost always unintelligible, but I still liked to lean in and try to listen to what he was saying.

The knocking came again, more urgent this time. It was definitely real, then. It couldn’t be my dad again. He had no reason to ambush me again. No one else knew where I lived…

Except maybe Chris fucking Thomas.

I sat up in bed, wide awake now. I doubted very much Chris would have followed me home after the incident in the woods. Not only had I explicitly threatened him with more physical violence, he literally couldn’t have followed me. I was pretty sure I had broken at least one rib. Not my proudest moment, admittedly, but he had threatened Kyler, and the alpha in me had taken over completely. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so angry.

It had been like a splash of cold water to the face, seeing him again. It had been even more chilling to hear his threats, that he knew about Kyler and me. I did not even want to think about what it was he knew. So it was with an increasing sense of anxiety that I untangled myself from Kyler, got out of bed and went to answer the door.

I was so surprised by the multitude of people at my door, it took me a full minute to register what was happening. The air was suddenly filled with clicking sounds, and millions of flashing lights popped in front of me. Then came the audio onslaught, with hundreds of people all speaking at once.

Camera crew.

Press.

Paparazzi.

The crowd was so thick I could not see where it ended. It was like the whole of Los Angeles had shown up at my front door. A little distance away, I spotted at least four news vans.

Someone shoved a microphone into my face, and then another, and another.

“Mr. McCormick!”

“Mr. McCormick! Why did you leave L.A.?”

“How long have you been hiding out here?”

“Is it true you’re married?”

“Can we get a statement on your alleged assault on your former lover?”

“You were spotted in L.A…”

“Where is your husband?”

“Is it true you’re researching a role?”

“Did your father know about this?”

It was exactly like being put in a blender and turned up to max. I was literally shocked into immobility. They had found me. It was over. Just like that, the life I had built for myself over the last ten years was gone. And the life I had built with Kyler.

Shit. Kyler.

I blinked, and the thought of Kyler waking up to this mess spurred me into action. Just like it had in the forest. I shut the door wordlessly and locked it, drowning out the next flurry of questions and the blinding flashes of cameras.

I raced around the house to the bedroom. Kyler was still asleep. I had no choice but to wake him. I did not want him to wake up to this. We were in the eye of the storm, so to speak. The world was about to explode around us.

Kyler protested weakly when I shook him awake. We had had a late night of passion, the first since the death of Korbin. He always looked sexy when he was sleepy. But I couldn’t think about that. I nudged him more strongly, and his eyes finally snapped open.

“Saul? What’s wrong?”

I must have been wearing the horror on my face.

“They found us…” I said. “Me. They found me.”

“They? Who is they?”

“Everyone, Kyler. The media, the world. They’re outside the door right now with camera crews and half of Hollywood.”

“What?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry, Kyler. I don’t know how it happened. But it doesn’t matter. I need you to stay in here, okay? Stay here and don’t move while I try and figure this out.”

“But what are you going to do?”

Honestly, I had no idea. The primary, overwhelming instinct was to make a run for it. There was a hidden exit from the house around the back, one I had built specifically for this kind of situation. I had never used it. I was not even sure it worked. It had been a contingency, a backup plan I hoped I would never need. I would need to get out of the house, find the nearest mode of transportation and disappear again. Except this time I had Kyler to think about. Kyler, who had done nothing to deserve the chaos he was about to be thrust into.

“Saul? What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, I’ll figure it out. Stay here. Don’t come out no matter what. I’ll come get you when it’s safe. I think you should pack a few clothes, though. We might have to leave fast.”

I sounded braver than I felt. Like I had a plan. So far all I had was run.

My phone rang as I got back to the living room. Of course my dad was calling. I wondered how viral I was just then. It had been a long time, but if I knew anything about Hollywood, it was that a good scandal was always prime news material. No doubt Rance had woken up to images of me in my boxers, mouth hanging open as the cameras went wild. Better that than what I had woken up to, in any case.

“Dad?”

“Saul? I’m coming in. Is there another way into the house?” He sounded agitated.

“Coming in? You mean flying in?”

“What? No, I’m already here. Is there another way into the house or do I have to deal with this mob?”

“Not unless you can drop in from the roof.”

There was also an emergency exit, but I didn’t think it was a good idea.

The line went dead. I walked over to the window and peered outside. I could just about make out my dad’s Jeep in the distance. I watched as he stepped out, flanked as he always seemed to be by my mother. He was immediately swallowed up by a group of reporters. I could not hear what he was saying, but he spoke briefly to the group. And then, like magic, the sea of reporters parted, clearing a path to the front door. Of course. Rance McCormick was still a Hollywood legend, and Hollywood legends did not have to put up with paparazzi.

I opened the door as they approached. They ducked in and I shut it quickly, before the wave of reporters came flooding back.

I had seen all of my dad’s faces, both in person and in his substantial cinematography, but the sheer disgust with which he was looking at me was completely new. Mother looked stern as well. There was no warm greeting, no tight hug. They just glared at me until the full extent of their disappointment was evident.

“What the fuck, Saul?”

Also new? Rance McCormick cursing outside his movies. I knew it was bad when my mother did not even bother to reprimand him.

“I don’t know what this is about,” I said defensively, pointing outside.

“I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about THIS!”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded newspaper, which he thrust in my general direction. Us Weekly. I did not even have to go far to find the article he was talking about. The second page was dominated by photos of me. One was from ten years ago, and the others were of me from two weeks ago when I had been in L.A. There was one of Kyler as well, an inset with the caption ‘FAKE HUSBAND?’

The article itself turned my stomach.

Saul McCormick; dead broke, but not dead.

Hollywood’s favorite son has been found. The man formerly considered the Prince of L.A., whose disappearance sparked worldwide speculation and controversy, has been discovered hiding away in the Mountains of the Roch.

Younger readers will not remember him, but anyone who lived in the city, and indeed America back then, is no doubt intimately aware of the scandal that shook the city in early November 2009. A quick search will tell you that Saul McCormick is the only son of Hollywood icon Rance McCormick, whose recent appearance on hit show ‘Game of Thrones’ earned him an Emmy nomination. It is this connection that provided young Saul much of his legitimacy in an industry that simply had no room for his mediocre talent. Thus spurned, he resorted to dubious means to stay relevant, and to make a quick buck. The scandal that forced him into exile is well documented, both in the media and online. Yet it seems there may have been more to the abrupt departure than meets the eye.

Nothing was heard from or about him in years following the aftermath of the scandal. Not until rumors began to surface a few weeks ago, that Saul McCormick had gotten married and was living as a recluse in an undisclosed location. While the basis of the rumor appears to have been true- Mr. McCormick did indeed get married- his real motivations may have been far more sinister.

Us Weekly can exclusively reveal that Saul has not kept himself far from the signature lack of ambition he was accustomed to. In documents seen by this publication, his marriage appears to be false, or at the very least, a serious breach of trust laws. Reliable sources confirm that Mr. McCormick entered the marriage to young Kyler Nielson in an attempt to circumvent specific laws that prevented him from receiving any money from his father.

I couldn’t read beyond that. I could feel the gaze from my parents burning holes into my head. I was terrified to even look at my dad in particular. The anger was radiating from him in waves.

“Do you care to explain?” Rance asked. “Is this true?”

“I think there are more pressing issues at hand, Dad.”

“I can’t imagine anything more pressing than this mockery you’ve made of me.”

“There’s an army of reporters camped out on my front door!”

Dad was unmoved.

“The media will always do what the media does. They’re here for a story. Is there a story here?”

I knew the jig was up. I had no moves left. In one fell swoop, I had lost both the privacy I cherished so much and the money that allowed me to have it. In retrospect, it had been silly to assume he would never find out. Arrogant, even. But there was no anticipating how things turned out. I had made some mistakes, that much was clear. Maybe I should have been more discreet with my profile on Mail Masters. Maybe I should have left the paperwork to a firm I trusted more. I could definitely have been more surreptitious the times I had been in L.A. with Kyler.

But the biggest mistake I had made was Chris. All the way back to meeting the son of a bitch. I had a sneaky suspicion he was behind all this. Somehow, he had managed to crawl out of that clearing and get the story out. He must have already sold it by the time he was confronting me. I had not thought he would, and not just because I had threatened him. No matter how far gone Chris was, I had once known him, and that was a level I just did not feel he would stoop to.

Either way, I had no choice but to come clean. Dad took lying as a personal insult.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“So it’s true, then?”

“I haven’t read the whole article…”

“Well, why don’t you tell me this whole story from the beginning?”

He stepped around me and walked over to the couch, where he sat with his arms crossed. Mother followed silently behind him. She was avoiding my eye. I could tell she had been hoping it was not true.

I cleared my throat, unsure where to begin.

“It all started with the visit from you, Dad. Or, I guess it’s more accurate to say it started with Chris, but that’s another thing entirely. After your visit, I panicked. I knew I would not be ready to get into a relationship, certainly not in the timeline you provided. Not after Chris. The marriage seemed like the only way everyone got what they wanted.”

“How am I getting what I wanted in this situation?” Dad asked, his voice still deceptively calm.

“You wanted me to have a family-”

“A real family.”

I had no comeback for that.

“So you decided to lie to us,” Mother said, speaking up for the first time.

“You know you gave me no choice, Mother. There was Dad in one ear, issuing me threats and deadlines, and in the other ear you were talking to me about love and happiness. I don’t know what you wanted me to do.”

I was starting to feel harassed, and therefore defiant. This was on them as much as it was on me.

“What about Kyler?” Rance asked suddenly. “Does he know that you were just using him to secure your inheritance? Does he know…”

He stopped speaking, and it was immediately apparent why. I had not heard Kyler come in. None of us had, judging from the way my dad promptly went silent, and my mother gasped, remembering a second too late to cover her mouth. Kyler was behind me. I knew, because my back was burning.

“Saul?”

I turned around to face him, and I knew the guilt was written all over my face. I wanted to tell him that the money meant nothing, that I wanted out of the contract. That all I really wanted was him, and us, and our little paradise. But I saw the doubt in his eyes, and I knew he had been standing there long enough to get the gist of what was happening.

“I thought I heard Rance and Phoebe,” he said, as if to explain his sudden appearance. Or to forestall the accusation I knew he longed to throw at me.

“It was about the money?” he asked when no one spoke. “This was all about money?”

“No, Kyler,” I stammered. “Not exactly.”

“You told me this was because you had been hurt in your previous relationship and you were not ready to love again.”

“That was true-”

“But you lied to me about everything else.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Kyler.” I was getting defiant again. “I told you right from the beginning I did not want a relationship.”

I heard a snort of disapproval from behind me that must have been my mother’s but I was past caring. Something about being put on the spotlight was making me irritable.

“You knew it was a fake marriage,” I went on. “You signed the contract, for God’s sake. What did you expect?”

It was the wrong thing to say. I regretted it as soon as I did, too. But the words were out there, and the trio of gasps from around the room let me know just how well they had been received. Kyler’s lip curled. He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded firmly.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve clarified your position.”

And he turned and disappeared down the hallway. Moments later, he emerged with a small bag on his back, and a determined expression on his face. He made for the door without a second glance at me.

“Don’t go that way…” I started to say, but I was a few seconds too late. Kyler marched to the door and yanked it open. As expected, he was greeted by a flurry of camera clicks and flashing lights. He jumped back in alarm and slammed the door shut.

He shook his head as if to wipe the experience from his memory. Then he strode back across the living room and disappeared down the hallway. It was then I remembered that he knew about the other exit. I ran after him, still confused as to what he was doing.

“Kyler?” I called after him. “Where are you going?”

“Literally anywhere but here,” he called back.

“Come on, Kyler. I can explain. There is more to this than what you heard.”

Silence, except for the sound of his hurried footsteps.

“I’m sorry!”

Still nothing.

I heard the door leading into the basement creaking, and I broke into a jog to catch up. Just as I was approaching, I heard it swing shut, and a few seconds later, the sound of a key turning. It was firmly locked when I got there. I could only stand there stupidly while Kyler’s footsteps faded, and the last thread that had been holding my life together finally snapped with a mournful twang.