A Poor Girl Sang to Save Her Dying Mother Without Knowing the Millionaire Judge Was the Father Who Abandoned Her

Up close, the resemblance hit him like a physical blow.

The shape of Lily’s jaw. The way her brown curls fell across her forehead. But most of all—her eyes. Gray-green eyes, surrounded by long dark lashes.

The exact eyes of Grace Parker.

Julian’s hands were shaking as he reached out, gently gripping the sleeves of her oversized yellow jacket.

"Lily," he rasped, his voice cracking—a sound the crew of American Spotlight had never heard in fifteen years of broadcast history. "Lily... look at me."

Lily looked up into the face of the fearsome judge. She didn't see a billionaire. She saw a man whose face was pale, terrified, and full of unshed tears.

"Who wrote that song, Lily?" Julian asked, his breath hitching. "Tell me the truth. Who taught you that song?"

"My mom," Lily whispered, clutching her guitar. "Grace. Grace Parker."

Julian closed his eyes, a ragged, agonized gasp escaping his chest.

Seven years old.

He did the math in his head instantly. Eight years ago, Grace had left him. Seven years ago, this child was born.

She wasn't just Grace's daughter.

She was his.

"Julian!" executive producer Steven yelled, sprinting onto the stage with three camera operators following close behind. "Julian, what the hell was that?! You used the Golden Buzzer on a walk-in walk-up kid?! We need to cut to commercial—"

"Get the cameras off my stage," Julian growled, standing up and turning around with a look of such absolute, lethal fury that the producer froze in his tracks.

"Julian, we’re taping—"

"I said turn them off!" Julian roared, his voice booming off the walls like thunder.

The cameramen instantly lowered their rigs. The stage manager signaled the booth to cut the feed.

Julian turned back to Lily, dropping down to one knee again so he was at her eye level. "Where is your mother right now, Lily?"

"She's at home," Lily said, her small eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "In our apartment on Union Avenue. She was too sick to get up today."

"Take me there," Julian commanded, his voice thick with emotion.

"Sir, you have twenty more auditions—" Steven tried to intervene.

Julian reached into his jacket, pulled out his personal phone, and shoved it into the executive producer’s chest.

"Cancel the rest of the day," Julian ordered coldly. "If anyone has a problem with it, tell them I'll buy out their contracts by five o'clock. Marcus!" he called out, looking past Lily to the young man standing in the wings.

Marcus stepped out nervously. "Yeah?"

"Are you driving her?"