For one moment, his controlled facade cracked. Pain flashed across his face. Someone who should have been here a long time ago. Before Tiana could ask what that meant, Christopher turned back to Brian.
Withdraw the complaint now or I start making calls. The silence in the office was suffocating. Brian's hands shook as he clicked his mouse. Complaint withdrawn.
Contestant 32 is cleared to perform tonight. In writing, Brian typed frantically, printed, signed, handed the paper to Diane with trembling hands. I'm sorry, Ms. Turner. I'm truly sorry.
I should never have You should never have listened to a racist, Christopher said flatly. He turned to Victoria. If you attempt any further interference with this contestant, I will end you professionally, personally, legally. Are we clear?
Victoria said nothing. Just grabbed her purse and fled. Christopher watched her go, then turned to Diane and Tiana. Up close, the resemblance was undeniable.
Tiana had his eyes, his chin, his exact bone structure. Diane looked older, harder, worn down by years of struggle, but still beautiful, still fierce. Diane stared at him. Really stared.
Her eyes narrowed. Christopher. He froze. Mama.
Tiana looked between them, confused. You know him. Diane's face cycled through shock, recognition, rage. Get out, Diane.
Get out. Her voice shook. You don't get to do this. Not now.
Not after. She couldn't finish. Just held Tiana tighter. Christopher looked at his daughter one more time.
Your performance was extraordinary, he said softly. Good luck tonight. Then he left before he fell apart in front of them. Outside in the hallway, he pressed his back against the wall and tried to breathe.
His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold his phone. He'd just saved his daughter, but he still hadn't told her who he was. Meanwhile, word was spreading. Carol had organized the hospital staff.
The Riverside Apartments neighbors had created a Facebook event. Support Tiana Turner. Finals night. The Black Church Youth Choir was mobilizing.
By 5:00 p.m., there was a line around the community center block. Eight hundred people were trying to get into a 400-seat auditorium. #LetTianaSing was trending nationally. It reached number three on Twitter. Victoria saw the crowd from her car and realized she'd lost before the competition even started.
7:00 p.m. The auditorium was chaos controlled by fire marshal regulations. All 400 seats were packed. Three hundred more were in an overflow room with a live stream.
Another 150 stood outside with speakers. News cameras lined the back wall. Local ABC, NBC, even a CNN stringer who'd driven 2 hours. The energy in the room was electric, protective, hopeful.