Chapter 1

"What kind of future do you have messing around on your phone?" My mom's voice cut through the room, and suddenly everyone's eyes were on me.

I set down my fork and kept quiet.

This was our annual family dinner. My aunts, uncles, and cousins. Over twenty people packed into a private room at a hotel. My mom loved these occasions. The bigger the crowd, the more she wanted to perform.

"Look at your Jessica," she said, pointing at my sister Jessica Banks, who was sitting next to the head of the table. "She's a civil servant, steady as can be.

"And you? You quit your job three years ago and hole up at home, glued to your phone."

I glanced at the trophy on my bookshelf. It was an industry award I'd won last year, but my mom thought it was some decoration I bought online.

"Mom," I said with a smile. "Let's eat."

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I didn't take it out.

"Posting videos is a real job now?" Jessica cut in, sounding as smug as ever.

She was showing off a brand-new off-white coat today. I heard it cost over one thousand dollars.

"Our office's digital media department is hiring. You need at least a bachelor's degree, and it has to be from a top school. But I remember you graduated from..." She paused, snickered. "Forget it, not worth mentioning."

Aunt Macy backed her up. "Jess is right, Nat. You're not a kid anymore. Time to get yourself a proper job."

I didn't say anything.

Growing up, I was always the one everyone compared.

When I got second place in my grade, and Jessica got fifth, Mom said, "Jess's great at the social sciences, not so good at math."

When I got into a top high school and Jessica went to a regular one, Mom said, "Jess had a bad day on the SSAT."

Later, we both went to college. Jessica ended up at a regular college, while I got into an Ivy League one. Mom said, "The school doesn't matter. Jess gets people skills."

The day I quit my job three years ago, all the relatives happened to be there. Mom called me "crazy," "throwing away a good job," and "making a fool of herself" in front of everyone.

That night, I sat alone in my rented apartment and started my first livestream. Seven people watched.

Thinking back, I felt it was actually pretty funny.

"Nat, how much do you make from those videos each month?" Aunt Karina asked.

"Enough to cover my expenses," I said.

"Enough to cover your expenses? How much is that? A few thousand?"

"Yeah." I picked up my glass and took a sip, not in the mood to explain.

Explaining wouldn't help.

They'd never believe someone who "messes around on her phone at home" could actually make money. Like Mom would never believe that the "decoration" on my bookshelf was actually the top award in the industry.

My husband, Angelo Ellison, sat next to me, never once speaking up for me.

He looked at me like the rest of them did.

My phone buzzed again. I hit mute and kept eating.

*****

Three days later, Jessica called me. "Natalie, I need a favor."

I was in the middle of editing a video, listening to my own voice on repeat through my headphones, tweaking every little detail.

"What is it?" I asked.

She said, "My office needs a promo video, and my boss dumped it on me. You know how to do this stuff, right? Help me out. Treat it like practice or something."

I took my hand off the mouse. "Jess, I have work to do."

"What work? Posting videos? How busy can that be?" She let out a laugh. "It's not like I'm making you do it for nothing. I'll buy you dinner after."

Then Mom chimed in on the other end. "Nat, what's so hard about helping Jess? She's got a real job, and you're at home with nothing to do."

I stared at the timeline on my screen. I'd already spent four hours editing this video. "Fine."

I hung up right after that.

That night, Jessica sent over the footage. It was a disaster. No script, no plan, and the shots were crooked and shaky.

I had to reorganize everything, edit, color correct, add subtitles, and pick out music.

It took me two days.

When I sent it back, all she replied was, [Got it.]

I didn't even get a thank you.

Late that night, I logged into my account dashboard, which showed followers were 3,847,521.

In the comments, people were spamming.

[Why no update from Natalie today?]

[I've been waiting for Natalie all night, can't sleep.]

[Take care of yourself, Natalie, no rush.]

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Over three million people were waiting for me, but my family still thought I was "doing nothing."

I smiled, marked the project as "urgent," and got back to work.

*****

That weekend, Angelo took me to his parents' place for dinner.

As soon as we walked in, his mom, Ruth Ellison, grabbed my hand and gave me the once-over. "Nat, what have you been busy with lately?"

"Work," I replied.

"What kind of work? Still that thing with your phone?"

Angelo, changing his shoes nearby, jumped in. "Mom, she's fooling around."

I shot him a look, but he avoided my eyes.

"Nat, I'm going to be honest." Ruth pulled me down to sit beside her. "A woman needs a steady job. Look at Angelo.

"He busts his ass every day to earn ten thousand dollars a month. And you? Sitting at home playing on your phone. It's so not decent."

I stayed quiet.

"You should find a real job, even if the pay's not great. At least it's something people respect." She patted my hand. "If you keep this up, how much stress do you think Angelo is under?"

Angelo walked over from the entryway and stood next to Ruth. "Nat, my mom's right. Can't you get a proper job?"

I looked at him. Two years ago, this was the guy who promised, "I'll back you up no matter what."

"I see," I said.

That night, after I got home, my friend, Ashlyn Ray, texted me. [Natalie, you really should let your family know what you're actually doing.]

I replied. [No need.]

Ashlyn: [Why not? You make more in a year than all of them put together. Why let them talk to you like this?]

I stared at her message, but didn't reply.

Why should I? Because they never once asked what I really do. All they see is me at home, glued to my phone.

And honestly, I didn't feel like explaining.

Trying to explain myself to people who never believe me was a waste of breath.