She grew up believing her father was Todd Rundgren. Her mother, Bebe Buell, had told her so. And why wouldn’t she believe it? Todd was there. Present. Kind. He treated her like his daughter because, as far as everyone knew, she was. Bebe had registered her as Liv Rundgren at birth, given her Todd’s last name, built a life around that truth. And for eight years, it was the only truth Liv knew.
Then she met Steven Tyler. Aerosmith’s frontman. The man with the wild hair, the scarves, the voice that could fill stadiums. She was at a concert, backstage with her mother, and when she saw him, something clicked. Not consciously. Just instinctively. She stared at him. He stared back. And in that moment, without anyone saying a word, she knew. They looked too much alike. The eyes. The mouth. The way they moved. It was undeniable.
She turned to her mother, confused, searching her face for answers. Bebe’s expression crumbled. She’d known this day would come. Had dreaded it. Had hoped, maybe foolishly, that it wouldn’t. But here it was. Her daughter, eight years old, staring at a stranger who wasn’t a stranger at all. And Bebe couldn’t lie anymore. Not when the truth was standing right in front of them. So she told her. Steven Tyler is your father. Not Todd. Steven.
Liv was stunned. Not angry, not yet. Just… lost. Her entire identity had shifted in a single sentence. The man she’d called Dad wasn’t her biological father. The life she’d known was built on a carefully constructed story meant to protect her. But from what? Her mother explained, tears streaming, words tumbling out in a rush. Steven’s life was chaos. Drugs, tours, instability. He was barely holding himself together, let alone capable of raising a child. Bebe had loved him, but she’d also seen the darkness. And she’d made a choice: protect her daughter from it, even if it meant lying.
Steven, to his credit, didn’t deny her. Didn’t reject her. When Bebe finally told him the truth — that Liv was his, that she’d hidden it to keep her safe — he didn’t get angry. He welcomed her. With tenderness. With openness. With the kind of love that says, I don’t know how to be a father yet, but I want to try. Liv was wary at first, understandably. But Steven was patient. He let her set the pace, let her ask questions, let her be angry or confused or whatever she needed to be.
Over time, they built a relationship. Not perfect. Not without complications. But real. Liv came to understand why her mother had lied. It wasn’t cruelty. It wasn’t shame. It was survival. Bebe had looked at Steven’s life — the excess, the addiction, the constant chaos — and knew she couldn’t raise a child in that. So she gave Liv stability instead. A father who was present, even if he wasn’t biological. A childhood free from the weight of Steven’s fame and demons. And when the time came, when Liv was old enough to handle the truth, Bebe told her.
Now, as an adult, Liv speaks about it with grace. She doesn’t villainize her mother. She understands the impossible position Bebe was in. She loves Todd, the man who raised her, who showed up every day, who chose to be her father when he didn’t have to. And she loves Steven, the man who gave her life, who welcomed her with open arms when the truth finally came out. She has two fathers. And both of them shaped who she is.
The story isn’t about deception. It’s about protection. About a mother who made a hard choice in an impossible situation. About a rockstar who’d lived recklessly but rose to the occasion when it mattered. About a girl who learned that family isn’t just about biology. It’s about who shows up. Who stays. Who loves you even when the truth is complicated and messy and hard.
Bebe could’ve told Liv the truth from the beginning. But she didn’t. And for years, people judged her for that. Called her a liar. Accused her of keeping a daughter from her father. But those people didn’t see what Bebe saw. They didn’t watch Steven spiral. Didn’t see the instability, the danger, the very real possibility that bringing a child into that world could do more harm than good. So she made a choice. And it wasn’t easy. But it was made with love.
Steven Tyler eventually got sober. Eventually became someone who could be present, stable, reliable. And when that happened, Liv had a father she could know without fear. Without chaos. Because Bebe had waited. Had protected her until the timing was right. That’s not betrayal. That’s sacrifice. That’s a mother doing what mothers do: putting their child’s safety above everything else, even when it means being misunderstood.
Now, when Liv walks red carpets with Steven beside her, people see a father and daughter reunited. But what they don’t always see is Bebe’s role in that reunion. The years she spent shielding Liv from a world that wasn’t ready for her. The lie she told not out of malice, but out of fierce, protective love. And the courage it took to finally tell the truth, knowing it might cost her everything, but trusting that her daughter would understand.
Liv did understand. And she loves them both. Todd, the father who raised her. Steven, the father who welcomed her. And Bebe, the mother who made an impossible choice and carried the weight of it alone for years. That’s not a story about lies. It’s a story about love. Complicated, imperfect, but ultimately, powerful love.