He Stole My Son's Face
Language: en
The night Beckett decided to go public with Serena—his "golden girl," his untouchable muse—I took my boy-girl twins straight to the backstage entrance of the Film Academy Gala. The security guard blocked me, his face tight with impatience, probably marking me as another obsessive stalker fan. A couple of fansite girls standing nearby with telephoto lenses sneered at me. I didn't say a word. But Maisy looked at the giant digital poster of Beckett on the wall, then tugged her brother's sleeve. "Todd, look. That man stole your face." That was when everyone finally noticed the two children…