“That kid of hers is wild. You never know how children from those situations turn out. Cara expects us to pretend everything is normal. It’s embarrassing.”
A murmur spread among the relatives. Someone whispered that they had heard something similar before but didn’t believe it.
Clip after clip rolled on. My mom calling me irresponsible. My dad telling a friend at the golf course that I used men for help. Both of them agreeing that they should distance themselves so my reputation wouldn’t stain the family name. And worst of all, a recording where they spoke about Lily—my mom’s voice, cool and dismissive:
“We don’t bring her to events. People will ask questions. It’s better this way.”
My father answered:
“Easier for everyone.”
My stomach twisted. I heard Lily inhale sharply beside me. When I turned, her little face was flushed and trembling, her hands gripping her tablet tightly. The livestream had not stopped for a single second. In the corner of Lily’s tablet, the viewer count began to jump. One hundred twenty. One hundred eighty. Two hundred fifty. I watched it climb with surreal disbelief. Two hundred eighty-seven. Then three hundred. Then higher.