Forsaking Jake for Inheritance

One million followers.

The numbers on Jake's livestream counter ticked upward in a hypnotic rhythm as I adjusted the lighting for the third time. Perfect, even though he'd never notice. The apartment hummed with anticipation—Jake's parents, his team, and about a dozen influencer friends all crowded into our living space, champagne flutes ready.

"Just fifty more to go!" Jake's voice carried that practiced excitement that had become his trademark. "This is surreal, guys. From my little food blog to this? I can't even..."

I smiled from my position behind the camera. Ten years of my life had gone into building his brand. Ten years of 3 AM content edits, maxed-out credit cards for camera equipment, and connections I'd carefully cultivated. Not that anyone in this room would ever know.

"Forty followers to go!" Madison announced, sliding closer to Jake. Her hand rested casually on his shoulder, her body angled toward him in a way that was just a touch too intimate for an assistant. "Eleanor, Richard, come join Jake on camera! The followers want to see the proud parents."

Jake's parents beamed as they squeezed into frame. Madison positioned herself between them, her arm linked through Eleanor's like they were old friends instead of employer and employee.

"Thirty seconds to a million!" Jake's father boomed.

I watched as Madison leaned in to whisper something in Eleanor's ear, making her laugh. The same Eleanor who had barely acknowledged my presence at their family Christmas last year, despite the fact that I'd been with her son for a decade.

"Ten... nine... eight..." The room counted down together.

I remained silent, a ghost in my own home, in my own life.

"ONE MILLION!" The room erupted.

Jake pumped his fist in the air as digital confetti rained across the screen. Madison popped a champagne bottle, the foam spilling dramatically for the camera. Eleanor hugged Madison tightly, completely blocking my view of Jake.

"We did it!" Jake shouted, emphasis on the 'we' that somehow never included me.

I kept the camera steady, capturing their celebration. This was the shot that would be posted, shared, commented on—evidence of Jake Sterling's meteoric rise to culinary influencer stardom.

No one noticed when I finally set the camera down.

---

"To one million followers and the European food tour that's going to take us to two!" Jake raised his glass in the kitchen after the livestream ended. The core group remained—his parents, Madison, and a couple of industry friends.

My stomach tightened. "European food tour?"

No one heard me. Madison was showing Eleanor something on her phone, both of them laughing. "The reservations at Noma are confirmed," she said. "And that Michelin place in Paris sent over the private dining contract."

Jake's phone buzzed continuously. He scrolled through messages, his face illuminated by the screen's glow. "Gordon Ramsay's people just reached out," he announced to the room, not to me. "They want to discuss a collaboration."

More cheers. More congratulations. I stood in the corner of our kitchen,