Adopted by Lin Manuel Miranda

Truth

Once Ant and I get ready and dressed, we head towards the RR. For some reason I got so nostalgic driving there.

I remembered my first time going to the RR and meeting the cast. I smile at the memory of Daveed pouncing on me, Renée, Phillipa, and Jazzy freaking out of another girl. I wipe away a happy tear and realize we are sitting in the parking lot of the theatre. I jump out and run over to Anthony and jump on his back.

"Onward!" I yell while pointing towards the side door.

"Aye, aye Captain!" Anthony says while charging towards the door. We laugh and laugh over the counfused looks on the shoppers and tourist of New York City.

We walk into the door and kiss goodbye and head out different ways to our dressing rooms. I walk into mine and see Renée and Phillipa sitting on what I have deemed the "In-virtuous couch."

"Hey guys! What are you doing?" I ask while setting my purse down. I cross over to my chair and start applying my makeup for one of the backup dancers, which I have been taking dance lessons for.

"Well, since your baby is due in a month we thought we could celebrate," Phillipa explains.

"Thanks, but how should we celebrate?" I ask while applying concealer to my pimples.

"Cake and root beer floats?" Renée offers.

"Yas!" I exclaim.

"Jazzy is supposed to bring the ice cream," Phillipa says while checking her phone, and then giggling.

"What is it, Pippa?" Renée asks, glancing over Phillipa's shoulder.

"No one," says Pippa, hurriedly throwing her phone down on her lap.

"Wait, you said 'no one'. Why would you say that unless you were texting someone? Ooh, Pippa, do you have a boyfriend?" Renée taunts.

"Who has a boyfriend?" asks a confused Jazzy carrying a tub of ice cream bigger than my baby bump.

"Phillipa," I say while I grab spoons from my drawer. I have a drawer dedicated to eveythig eating related. I know, I am an addict. An addict of food.

"I don't," shreiks Phillipa.

Renée grabs Phillips's phone out of her hands and then looks at her messages. "LESLIE?" Renée yells.

"YOU'RE SEXTING WITH LESLIE!" I scream.

Everyone freaks out and after a good five minutes of Phillipa urging us to be quiet and her furiously blushing, we calm down and she dishes everything to us while we drink root beer floats and eat cake.

When they finally leave, I get ready for the show, which goes perfectly. I have a special costume that doesn't show my baby bump, that way I can still do the show while in my last months of pregnancy.

"Hey babe, let's go home," Anthony says leaving against my doorframe.

"Okay," I say grabbing my purse. He and I race out of the theatre and then we jump into the car and drive home.

Okay. You have to do this. You have to tell Anthony about Daveed and about my panic attack. I will tell Anthony about my panic attack first, because he probably won't get mad, just upset that I didn't tell him sooner and concerned. Then after that I will tell him about the kiss. That will be problematic. But we'll see how it goes.

We pull into the parking garage of our apartment. We climbed out of the car. "What were you thinking about on our way over?" Anthony asks me.

"Our future." It wasn't a lie. Anthony smiled and grabbed me hand and put his other hand on my stomach. I smile and then I put my empty hand on his. We walk into the elevator and as it goes, we end up in a kissing session.

When the elevator dings and stops we remove our lips from each other's. We walk into the apartment and I sit on the couch. "I'll make us some food", Anthony smiles as he walked into the kitchen.

I pull out my phone and whipped out Instagram. I look at some celebrities' pages, some of the cast's and then I decided to look at 'tagged photos of me'. I saw tons of people tagging me in cast photos, in edits of Anthony and I, but there was one that caught my eye. It was a photo of me with devil horns.

The caption read: Corisiande Piper Miranda is just a gold digging little b****. She doesn't care about anyone from the cast of Hamilton: An American Musical, including her adoptive father Lin Manuel Miranda, her baby daddy and fiancé, Anthony Ramos, or her temporary beau, Daveed Diggs. She is only in on the ride for fame, money, and love of the people.

I wipe away the streaming tears coming from my eyes and I go back to my home page. I scroll through many pictures, and again, I see a photo that catches my eye. It is a picture of Anthony at what appeared to be a club.

The caption read: Want to see more of Anthony Ramos' secret life? Click the link in the bio.

I clicked on their username which 'exposing_celebs' and then I clicked on the link in the bio. I was taken to a home page of a website, as I expected. I clicked on the 'Broadway' tab at the top, then I clicked on the 'Hamilton' tab. I then clicked on Anthony's name and saw many pictures of him doing many things.

One picture was of him checking out a girl.

This was dated three weeks ago.

Another picture was of him sipping on booze at a bar.

This was dated two weeks ago.

Another one of him in a club dancing with some leggy, blonde chick.

This was taken a week and a half ago.

There was a picture of him getting cozy with a Latino woman.

Dated four weeks ago.

A picture of Anthony beating someone up.

Two weeks ago.

A picture of him with two girls on his arm.

Dated three days ago.

A picture of him smiling and laughing with a girl that looks like a model.

Two days ago.

A picture of him kissing the same girl in the last picture.

Yesterday.

A picture of him buying a pregnancy test.

Dated today at nine a.m.

I drop my phone and I wrap my arms around my torso. I feel the wetness on my cheeks, and I realize I have been crying for a while now. I start to feel the same way I did earlier this week.

My palms got sweaty. Everything started spinning. I started shuddering violently. Tears kept streaming down my face. It felt like the whole world was going to collapse. Everything felt wrong.

Anthony came in and spotted my odd behavior. "Corisiande? What's the matter?"

I don't respond. I just cry. He comes over and wraps his arms around me. That does not make anything better. It feels like a stranger's arms. Not my Anthony. The person in the pictures felt like a stranger. My Anthony would never go to clubs and bars and buy booze, gets in fist fights, and dance with other girls while he is seeing me and that other girl. The one who he looked happy with.

Would he?

Even though our apartment was burning up, everything felt cold.