The first punch never landed on skin.
It landed on air—on the silence of a studio in Burbank, California—shattering it with a barked insult that echoed off fake living-room walls and hot studio lights.
“You better believe I’m still…” Nolan squinted into the brightness, the mark on the floor swimming beneath his sneakers. “Still… still…”
“Cut!” he blurted, panic leaping into his voice.
A beat of dead quiet.
From behind the camera, the real voice sliced in.
“For the last time,” Burk snarled, his chair screeching back as he stood. “You don’t get to call cut.”
Crew members looked away, suddenly fascinated by cables and clipboards. The boom mic dipped an inch, then steadied. The red recording light blinked like a warning.
Burk stomped across the set, his worn boots loud on the wooden floor. He smelled like coffee, stress, and something sourer—fear, maybe. Debt.
“What was that?” he demanded, stopping so close that Nolan could see stubble on his uncle’s jaw.
“I’m sorry,” Nolan whispered. His mouth went dry. “I just—”
“Just what?” Burk leaned in. “You’re not smart enough to memorize one stupid line?”
“I can do it again. I’ll get it right this time, I promise, Uncle Burk.”
Burk’s eyes hardened. “Yeah, you better get it right this time, you little good for—”
“Leave him alone.” Jasmine’s voice cut through the studio like a blade.
She stepped from behind a lighting rig, baseball cap and hoodie doing a bad job of hiding her eighteen-year-old face. Her hands shook—but not enough to stop her from pushing herself between them.
“Back off,” she said. “You’re scaring him.”
Burk’s mouth curled. “He should be scared.” He dropped his voice. “And you’d better show some respect if you want our little agreement to continue.”
Jasmine’s chin lifted. “What agreement?” she shot back, too loudly.
He smiled. The dangerous kind. “I’m just messing with you, kid,” he said, patting Nolan’s cheek like it was all a joke. “Okay? Everybody relax. We’re taking five. I believe our little star needs a minute.”
“Thank you,” the director muttered, rubbing his temples.
Burk bent down, his lips close to Nolan’s ear. “You and your sister,” he whispered, “better never embarrass me like that in front of everyone again. Do you hear me? Ever again.”
Nolan nodded, throat burning.
Burk straightened and kicked at a craft-service plate on a side table. Chips and cookies skittered across the floor.
“What’s this junk?” he snapped. “He can’t eat this. He needs a clean diet to stay in tip-top shape.” He jabbed a finger at Nolan. “After the break, I want a perfect performance. You hear me? Perfect.”
He stormed off toward the hallway, barking into his phone before he even cleared the set.
The studio exhaled.
Jasmine knelt beside Nolan, wrapping her arms around him.
“You did great,” she said quietly. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m sorry I messed up,” he said, staring at the floor.
“Don’t apologize,” she whispered. “You’re twelve, Nolan. You’re allowed to be tired.”
“Leave him alone,” Burk shouted from the doorway, voice booming back over the set. “He needs to focus!”
Jasmine shot the hallway a look filled with things she wanted to say and knew she couldn’t. Not yet.
There had to be another way. She just hadn’t found it.
Yet.
“There must be something we can do,” Jasmine insisted later that week, hands wrapped around a Styrofoam cup of coffee gone cold. The county courthouse in downtown Los Angeles hummed around her, all marble and metal detectors and the distant chatter of other people’s problems.
Across the desk, the caseworker folded her hands.
“I understand,” the woman said. “But the courts don’t like to change their minds.”
“When our parents died, I was barely eighteen,” Jasmine said. “I get why the judge thought Burk was the safer choice back then. But I spent the last two years building a life that can support Nolan. I have a job. I have an apartment. I have a room ready for him.”
“All of that is great,” the caseworker said gently. “But it’s not enough on paper.”
Jasmine’s shoulders slumped. She could almost feel the clock ticking on Nolan’s childhood. Every audition, every long day on set, every line Burk screamed at him carved deeper lines into the boy’s face.
“Nolan is hurting now,” she said. “We don’t have months.”
“I know.” The woman sighed. “Unless you come back with evidence of abuse, the best we can do is take the long road. Keep working. Try again in a few months.”
“Evidence,” Jasmine repeated. “He never hits him where anyone can see.”
“There are other kinds of abuse,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “If you see something serious—excessive work hours, withheld school, financial exploitation—document it. Call us, call the police. But we can’t act on suspicions alone.”
Jasmine walked out of the courthouse blinking against the California sun, the Hollywood sign faint in the distance beyond the freeway.
Evidence.
She needed proof.
And on the other side of the city, Burk was already creating it.
“I need three auditions lined up for Nolan by the end of the week,” Burk snapped into his phone as he paced the small, cluttered office he ran out of his apartment. Headshots of other child clients covered the walls, their glossy smiles staring down like little ghosts.
“Or what?” his agent grumbled on the other end. “You’ll yell at me again?”
“Or I’m gonna make it your problem personally,” Burk said. “His show’s getting canceled. If he doesn’t land something big before the news breaks, we’re done.”
“I told you, I’m working on it,” the agent said. “But casting directors are saying he looks tired. Like he doesn’t even want to act.”
Burk’s jaw clenched. “Then he better start acting like he wants it,” he muttered.
A knock sounded at the office door.
“Call me when you have something,” he said, hanging up. “Something that pays.”
He opened the door and his fake smile fell away.
“Well, look at that,” said the man in the hallway. “Just the guy I was looking for.”
Tony looked like every warning parents gave their kids rolled into one person: leather jacket despite the heat, gold chain, smile that never reached his eyes. Burk’s stomach dropped.
“You don’t look happy to see me,” Tony said. “Why’s that?”
“I am,” Burk lied quickly. “Always happy to see you, Tony. You must mean I’ve got your money, huh?” He laughed a little too loudly. “I’m working on it. As soon as Nolan books another show—”
“You said that last time.” Tony’s smile disappeared.
“This time is different,” Burk insisted. “He’s got leads. We just need a little more time. One more week. When the checks hit, you’ll be rolling in dough.”
Tony leaned in until Burk could smell his aftershave. “Tick tock,” he said softly. “We wouldn’t want things to get ugly.”
Burk swallowed. “It won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
Tony clapped him on the shoulder once, too hard, and walked away.
Burk closed the door and locked it, pressing his back against the wood.
One week.
He had one week to squeeze money out of a twelve-year-old.
Unless he did what he always did best: lie.
The apartment complex sat in a sleepy corner of the Valley, with sun-faded stucco, cracked parking lot lines, and a view of the mountains if you squinted past the power lines. A group of kids played basketball in the courtyard, the ball thudding against the concrete.
Jasmine held a grocery bag in one hand and Nolan’s forgotten scarf in the other as she climbed the stairs to Burk’s place. She’d found the scarf on her couch after he’d fallen asleep during a rare break and known right away he’d need it—he always said sets were too cold.
She rounded the corner—and nearly walked right into a woman wrestling with a potted plant.
“Oh! Hi!” the woman said, catching the plant before it toppled. “Did you just move in?”
“Me? No,” Jasmine said. “Sorry, here, let me help.”
“Nonsense, I’ve got it.” The woman smiled. She had silver hair pulled into a bun, gold hoop earrings, and a floral blouse that looked like it belonged in a Florida retirement community. “I’m the one who just moved in. I’m Lola. Nice to meet you.”
“Jasmine,” she said, offering her free hand. “Welcome. This place is… well, it’s something.”
“I’ve seen worse,” Lola said. “I’m just happy to be somewhere with palm trees again.”
The door across the hall opened.
“Oh, hey, Burk!” Jasmine said. “Nolan left his scarf at my place.”
“Great,” Burk said flatly. His eyes flicked to Lola. “That’s your new neighbor.”
Lola offered him a bright smile. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I was just—”
“What are you doing here?” Burk cut in, ignoring her. “Taking Nolan to school?”
“He’s not going,” Burk said before she could answer. “He’s gotta focus on his auditions.”
“You can’t do that,” Jasmine said. “He loves school. All his friends are there.”
“Are you sure you really want to do this?” Lola asked Nolan, who stood behind Burk, backpack already off, eyes tired.
“This is what I want,” Nolan said quickly. “It’s fine.”
Burk smirked. “See? I know what’s best for my client.”
“You mean your nephew,” Lola said.
“That too.” He shrugged. “I’ll teach him. I know math and stuff.”
“You’re not a teacher,” Jasmine said. “This is breaking the law. Truancy, Burk. The court won’t like it.”
“The court doesn’t check on this kind of thing,” he said. “They trust me to look after him. And if we don’t leave now, we’ll be late for the audition. Come on, Nolan.”
“Break a leg,” Jasmine called after him, trying to sound light.
“Thanks, babe,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Call you later.”
He closed the door.
Lola watched the hallway for a long moment.
“Stay away from him,” Jasmine said under her breath. “He’ll use you if you let him.”
Lola’s eyes narrowed, tracking Burk’s door.
“Oh, honey,” she murmured. “I’ve met his type before.”
The audition room in Hollywood looked the same as all the others: white walls, plastic chairs, a folding table with bottled water and printed sides. A casting assistant with a bun and a tablet. A camera on a tripod.
Nolan stood on the taped X in the center, scarf looped around his neck, fingers twisting in the fabric.
“Whenever you’re ready,” the casting director said. “This time, try it like someone’s taking something from you that you really want to keep.”
He nodded.
“Stay away from her!” he shouted, voice cracking. “Stay away—” His chest heaved. His head swam. “Stay away from her,” he finished weakly.
“Thank you,” the casting director said. “That was great, Nolan. We’ll be in touch.”
He stepped out into the parking lot, sunlight stabbing his eyes. Burk was waiting by the car, arms crossed.
“I can’t believe you blew another big chance,” Burk snapped. “You’re worthless.”
“Maybe if I could just take a break,” Nolan said, the words slipping out before he could catch them. “Just a couple of days. I haven’t had a break in months.”
“I took you in,” Burk said, jabbing a finger into his chest, “because I thought you were ready to make it big. If you’re not willing to put in the work, maybe I’ll just drop you off at CPS on the way home so you can get that ‘much-needed recharge’ in foster care.”
Nolan swallowed. “I just want to live with Jasmine,” he whispered.
“I know you do,” Burk said. His smile turned cruel. “Which is why I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen. So stop whining and start performing. Let’s go.”
He shoved Nolan toward the car.
Upstairs in the apartment complex that evening, Lola sat at her small kitchen table, scrolling through her phone.
Her screen was filled with a very familiar face.
Lara from Katseye—a viral girl group plastered across every mall in America—smiled up from music videos, magazine covers, and fan accounts. Long pigtails, sparkly eyeliner, identical friendship bracelets on both wrists.
Lola glanced at herself in the selfie camera. Pigtails. Eyeliner. Friendship bracelets.
A stranger on the street had already mistaken her for Lara once that week. She’d laughed it off.
Then Burk had shown up at her door with flowers.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Jasmine asked the next night, looking around the nice restaurant Burk had dragged her to. The kind with white tablecloths and jazz playing softly over the speakers. “You never invite me to dinners. You hate spending money.”
“Relax,” he said, leaning back. “You think that low of me?”
“Yes,” she said bluntly.
He laughed. “Fine,” he said. “I do have something important to discuss. It’s… personal.”
“I knew it,” she muttered. “Just hurry up and tell me what you want.”
He took a deep breath, adopting a solemn expression. “I’m part of a group raising money for a new children’s hospital,” he said. “They’re hiring celebrities to appear at a fundraiser. Autographs, selfies, the usual. But our lineup canceled last minute.”
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said. “But I don’t know any celebrities.”
“You don’t have to,” Burk said. “Because you look like one.”
She blinked. “Come again?”
He pulled up a photo on his phone. “Lara,” he said. “From Katseye. It’s uncanny. Pigtails, same face shape. You pretend to be her, sign some autographs, take some pics… you’d make those kids so happy. And we’d hit the fundraising goal.”
She stared at the photo, then at him. “You’re crazy,” she said. “I can’t pretend to be Lara. That’s… wrong.”
“Come on,” he coaxed. “It’s for charity. For sick kids. And if you help me…” He smiled. “I’ll sign over custody of Nolan to you.”
Her heart stopped. “You’d really do that?” she breathed.
“Of course,” he said easily. “I know Nolan wants to be with you. I’m just giving him what he wants. One event. That’s all. Then he’s yours.”
It sounded too good to be true.
But the image flashed in her mind: Nolan asleep on her couch, stress lines etched into his forehead; the way he clung to her when Burk yelled; the way he whispered I just want to live with Jasmine.
She swallowed. “Just once,” she said. “I’ll do it once.”
“Wonderful,” Burk said, clapping. “Wear the pigtails. And keep the sunglasses on. Always. Don’t talk. I’ll handle everything.”
The small mall outside Los Angeles transformed into chaos as soon as “Lara” arrived.
Teenagers screamed. Kids in Katseye T-shirts cried. Parents juggled phones and posters. Burk stood near the front of the line, hands raised like a carnival barker.
“All right, everyone!” he announced. “Unfortunately, Lara lost her voice, so please don’t speak to her. But she’s thrilled to sign autographs and take selfies to support the new children’s hospital!”
The crowd roared.
Behind oversized sunglasses, Jasmine’s heart pounded. She’d practiced Lara’s smile in the mirror, but standing here, seeing how much this girl meant to these kids, made her stomach twist.
She signed posters with looping hearts on the L. She tilted her head just right for every photo. Lola stood off to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. She’d agreed to “help with managing the crowd” after Burk had spun her a story about fundraising.
“Thank you,” one girl whispered after a selfie, clutching her phone like treasure. “I’ve wanted to meet you my entire life.”
Guilt stabbed Jasmine in the chest.
She finished the last autograph and slipped behind the fake backdrop, sinking onto a folding chair.
Burk followed, counting cash.
“Huge success,” he crowed. “Look at how happy you made them!”
“I didn’t like lying to them,” she said, pulling off the sunglasses. “They think I’m someone I’m not.”
“Focus on the kids we’re helping,” he said smoothly. “Once the hospital gets their donation, they won’t care who signed what. And that’ll make it easier next time.”
Her head snapped up. “Next time?” she repeated. “I thought this was a one-time thing.”
“Well, the fundraising goal is higher than we thought,” he said. “We’re not there yet. Our, uh, other celebrities keep dropping out. We might have to do a few more events. But listen, you two go out to dinner. On me. You earned it.”
He shoved cash into her hand and walked away, phone already at his ear.
Lola appeared at Jasmine’s elbow. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Jasmine said. “It feels wrong. But… it’s for Nolan. Burk promised to sign custody over next month.”
Lola’s eyes flicked after Burk. “Men like that don’t give up leverage without a reason,” she said quietly. “Be careful.”
Jasmine forced a smile. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “You didn’t have to.”
“Oh, I wanted to,” Lola said, pulling her cardigan tighter. “I’ve seen too many kids chewed up by this town. I don’t intend to let another one slip by.”
That night, Jasmine and Nolan sat in a booth at an In-N-Out, sharing fries.
“Remember when Dad used to dip his fries in ranch?” Jasmine said, trying to lighten the mood.
Nolan made a face. “Gross,” he said, laughing. “We’d complain and he’d say, ‘It’s not my fault I’m the only one with taste buds.’”
They both laughed.
Then Nolan’s smile faded. “When can I move in with you?” he asked softly.
“I’m working on it,” Jasmine said. “Burk said—”
“He told me you were working on it,” Nolan cut in. “But every day, he says I have to get this audition right or he’ll… or he’ll send me away.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Actually, Burk said you can move in with me next month,” she said. “At least, that’s what he told me. He’s getting the papers ready.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up.
“Really,” she said. “We’ll paint your room however you want. No scripts on weekends. No yelling. Just us.”
It was the first time he’d looked like a kid in months.
A sudden buzz from her phone made her flinch.
“It’s Burk,” she said. “He wants you home in ten. We can’t make him mad. Not until the paperwork is signed.”
“I don’t want to go yet,” Nolan said.
“I know,” she whispered. “But we’re so close. Just hold on a little longer, okay?”
They walked out into the California night, neon signs blinking, traffic humming along the freeway. Lola watched them from her parked car, jaw clenched.
She’d seen enough.
It was time to stop watching.
Two nights later, Tony caught up with Burk in a dim alley behind a strip mall as rain began to mist over Los Angeles, turnings its lights into smeared streaks.
“So,” Tony said, slamming Burk against the side of a dumpster. “You looked happy last time I saw you. That happen before or after you decided not to pay me?”
Burk wheezed. “Come on,” he gasped. “I just need a little more time. Nolan has another audition tomorrow. There’s a new contract on the table. And we’re making extra money with those… appearances.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Appearances?”
“Fundraisers,” Burk said quickly. “You know that girl group, Katseye? People think Jasmine is Lara. We’ve been doing events. It’ll be more money than a show. I swear.”
Tony’s grip loosened. He smiled slowly. “That’s what made you happy, huh?” he said. “More scams. Congratulations. That buys you one more week.”
He shoved Burk away.
Burk stumbled, catching himself on the dumpster.
“One week isn’t enough,” he muttered after Tony disappeared into the rain. “He knows it. I know it.”
He rubbed his bruised ribs, mind racing.
There was only one way out now.
Leave town.
And drop the dead weight.
The next morning, Lola banged on Burk’s door.
“Burk!” she shouted. “Open up!”
Feet shuffled inside. The door cracked open. Nolan’s older cousin, who crashed on Burk’s couch sometimes, peered out, hair messy, eyes bleary.
“What?” he yawned. “I was sleeping.”
“Where’s Burk?” Jasmine demanded from the hallway, out of breath. “I need to talk to him. Now.”
“I don’t know,” the cousin said. “He left with Nolan to sign some new contract. Said something about a ‘big break.’”
“He signed a contract without me?” Jasmine said, voice rising. “I’m going to be his guardian in a few weeks. I should have been there.”
The cousin shrugged. “I’m going back to sleep.”
He shut the door.
Jasmine stared at the peeling paint.
She’d just gotten off the phone with her lawyer, who’d dropped two bombs: the trust account Burk had supposedly set up for Nolan had been drained the same day the first studio check landed. And no custody papers had ever been filed.
Burk was cutting her out.
She turned to Lola, who’d climbed the stairs as soon as she’d heard shouting.
“He lied,” Jasmine said, voice shaking. “He took the money. He never intended to give me custody. He’s turning Nolan over to CPS.”
Lola’s jaw tightened. “Not if we get there first,” she said. “Grab your keys.”
In the end, it didn’t go down in a studio or an alley.
It went down on a quiet residential street outside a courthouse in downtown L.A., under a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.
Nolan sat on the hood of a patrol car, legs swinging, eyes blown wide. A social worker stood nearby, talking quietly into her phone. Burk paced at the curb, gesturing wildly at two officers.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. “I did everything right. I set up a trust for him. I brought him opportunities. And now you’re telling me I’m the bad guy?”
“You emptied the trust,” one officer said calmly. “The bank records are clear.”
“I was managing his funds,” Burk protested.
“And you signed him to a new series after pulling him from school and forcing him to work hours beyond what state law allows,” the officer continued. “You threatened to abandon him to the system if he didn’t perform.”
“Prove it,” Burk snapped.
“We can,” said a new voice.
Burk spun around.
Lola stood on the steps, blazer buttoned, hair pulled back, glasses on. She looked different—like she’d stepped back into a life she’d left behind.
“Contrary to your assumptions about me,” she said, voice carrying clearly, “I’m a retired U.S. attorney. My specialty was child labor law. Including the Coogan Act.”
She walked closer, folder in hand.
“I’ve been documenting everything I’ve witnessed since I moved in,” she said. “Your use of Nolan as a primary earner, your refusal to send him to school, your pressure on his sister to participate in your fraud. I’ve shared it with the police and the judge.”
Burk’s face drained of color.
“And I wrote a letter of recommendation for Jasmine,” Lola continued. “Given her stability and the evidence of your neglect, the court has appointed her Nolan’s legal guardian.”
“What?!” Burk shouted. “That video—of the fake Lara—that makes her look bad, not me!”
“The judge already saw it,” Lola said. “I showed him. It proves your scam. She admitted her role, explained your manipulation, and agreed to cooperate. He believes her. No one believes you.”
An officer stepped forward. “Burk,” he said. “You’re under arrest for fraud and violations of child labor laws.”
“What are you talking about?” Burk sputtered as they turned him around and snapped handcuffs on his wrists. “They’re lying! You’ve got the wrong guy!”
The officer glanced at Lola. “We’re happy to sort it out at the station,” he said.
They guided Burk to the back of the cruiser. He twisted around once, eyes wild.
“This isn’t over!” he shouted.
The door shut.
The cruiser pulled away.
Nolan watched it go, heart pounding. Part of him expected Burk to step back out, smirking, calling the whole thing a misunderstanding, a prank, a test.
He didn’t.
Jasmine came to stand beside him, face pale, eyes raw.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “For everything. For not getting you out sooner. For letting him use me. I thought I was helping. I thought I had to play along to get you back.”
“I know,” Nolan said.
“You already signed the contract for that new show,” she said. “But you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. We can walk away. I’ll fight it. We’ll figure something else out. I just want us to be a family again. A real one. No cameras. No deals.”
Nolan stared at his sneakers for a long moment.
When he looked up, the Hollywood sign was a smudge on the distant hillside, tiny and unimportant.
“I don’t want to do it,” he said. “Not if it means living like that again. I just want to go home. With you.”
Jasmine’s breath hitched. “Me too,” she said. “We’ll eat fries with too much ranch and watch bad movies and you can forget what it feels like to hear ‘action’ every five minutes.”
He smiled, for real this time. “Okay,” he said.
Lola watched them hug, arms wrapped so tight she wondered how they were still breathing.
“You did good,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone. “This time we got there in time.”
The social worker approached, a small smile replacing her earlier frown. “Jasmine,” she said. “The judge signed the emergency guardianship order. We’ll work through the rest, but… you can take your brother home.”
“Home,” Nolan repeated, tasting the word like it was brand new.
They walked down the sidewalk together, the late-afternoon sun warm on their backs, the city humming around them. There were still bills to pay, contracts to untangle, therapy appointments to schedule, court dates to attend.
But for the first time since the hot lights of that Burbank studio had burned his eyes, Nolan didn’t feel like a product.
He felt like a kid.
He slipped his hand into his sister’s.
“You better believe I’m still…” he said softly.
“Still what?” Jasmine asked, bumping him with her shoulder.
“Still me,” he said. “No matter what show I don’t do.”
She laughed. “That’s the only thing that matters,” she said.
They disappeared into the white noise of Los Angeles—sirens in the distance, a helicopter overhead, a billboard advertising yet another streaming show with a smiling child on it.
Some other kid’s story.
Not his.
Not anymore.
