Chapter 3
I outshone Mom with my acting, flashing an innocent smile. "Anything you give me tastes sweet, even if it's sour."
Netizens melted all over again. The comment section blew up with people asking where they could pray for a daughter as sweet as me.
Of course, I delivered. One line and another hashtag shot up the trending list.
I smiled, "But kiwis are our little Samuel's favorite. Every time I see one, I think of him. Mom, can we bring him on the show? I really miss him."
Mom and Dad's faces dropped. Their managers waved frantically for me to shut up.
I kept my baby-face on and rattled on. "Dad, you always say Samuel's the heart of the Turner family. Without the heart, you must be hurting, right?
"Mom, we've got a whole crate of kiwis at home, and my brother can't have any. Can't we fly him in so he can have some too?"
My heartfelt questions left them frozen. They did love Samuel; their hearts ached for him.
In this business, they had to act daughter-obsessed. Showing too much love for their son would get them branded as sexist by the internet. They had no real choice.
Their own PR only dared to say "family of three," terrified that the audience would find out about their boy and shred their perfect image.
After all, "we wanted a girl so badly" sounds great, until everyone realized they kept trying until they got a son.
The audience wasn't dumb. The second I mentioned Samuel, the livestream chat totally blew up.
[So they've got a son... No wonder this family always felt fake.]
[All the love on camera, all the money on the boy. Think about it.]
[They drag the daughter on every show but hide the son. That tells you who really matters. Bet the boy was an oops.]
[Oops? "We chased the girl, accidentally landed a boy". How many families are sweating this exact secret right now?]
*****
Just like that, my words sent the internet into a frenzy all over again.
Watching the hashtags explode live, the managers had to hit pause on filming for now.
As soon as the cameras turned away, Mom and Dad stopped doting on me and didn't pay me any more attention.
Abel, the show's director, gave me a knowing look and handed me his business card. "Girl, you've got a real talent for shaking things up. You'd do great in showbiz. If you ever want to act, hit me up."
I accepted the card calmly and thanked him with perfect manners.
Abel could sniff out a star like a bloodhound. Last time around, I'd step outside to toss the trash and wake up trending.
But my parents? No matter what they did, fame just wasn't in their DNA. That's why they were always sticking to me, hoping I'd be their golden ticket to the spotlight.
Last time, I said yes to every garbage script just to swap screen time for their rent. They never said thanks.
They acted like I was paying off a debt I was born with, dragging me to dinners so I could clink glasses with investors and charm bigger checks for them.
No matter how many good opportunities landed in their laps, they never made even the tiniest ripple.
After a while, the investors stopped throwing money at a lost cause.
My parents just got more and more annoyed with me, convinced I wasn't doing enough to repay their so-called sacrifices.
This time, I wanted to see if my parents could still score all those sweet deals just by lazing around at home, without me busting my back for them.
The second the Family Stars Live feed cut, the hashtags blew up. [Jack Turner Can't Even Spell Solve], [Jack Turner Middle School Dropout], [Sophie's Brother Loves Kiwis], [Family Stars Live: Son Preference], and so on.
The charts looked like a wall of shame, and every tag shoved Mom and Dad further into the spotlight.
Meanwhile, back at home, they were going at it with their managers.
"Yank those tags," Mom cried on the couch. "My Dearest Mom won't even pick up the phone. It's all because of these damned hashtags."
"No way we're taking them down. This is pure hype. When have you ever been this hot since you debuted?" Grace, who seemed happy, said.
Dad paced like a caged tiger. "Everyone's laughing at me. And they just killed my professor role. Said nobody buys a guy who can't spell 'solve' playing Einstein."
Mike couldn't care less. "But seven or eight variety show invites already. It's just a supporting role, no big deal. Pick up a few variety gigs and you'll be making bank."
My parents butted heads with their managers and the company yet again, but they never had the guts to stand up to the company.
So, as always, they just dumped all their frustration on me.