Chapter 2: Sibling Leverage and Livestreams

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“Rolling! Siblings” is a reality show filmed at a country house. Each episode is three days, streamed live the whole time. It’s like Big Brother meets summer camp, but with way more ring lights and, thank God, fewer mosquitoes.

To keep things spicy, the live chat updates in real time. Every move you make, someone’s got an opinion. And trust me, they’re not shy about sharing it.

When my brother led me out of the SUV, the chat exploded like the Fourth of July.

*“Ahhh, Carter Dean is here! Marry me!”*

*“He’s hot, but always looks grumpy. I heard he’s a rage monster.”*

*“Seriously, the person above must be Alex Reed’s anti. If you don’t have proof, zip it!”*

*“That girl’s Carter Dean’s sister? She’s so soft and cute!”*

One group of guests was already lounging on the waiting area’s worn leather couch. The thing looked like it had survived three generations of family movie nights. I recognized that face instantly, even under the ball cap and sunglasses.

Of course. Fate loves a trainwreck.

Miles Sinclair, my childhood friend. Nicknamed the Prince of the Manhattan social scene, he only joined Hollywood to kill time. He was the kind of guy who went viral for just showing up somewhere.

He’d played a few rich playboy roles in hit TV dramas and just kind of slipped into fame from there. The tabloids loved him, and so did most people with a pulse.

When he saw me, his eyes lit up like Christmas in Times Square.

“Emmy!”

He came over, hand out like he was about to ruffle my hair—just like when we were kids. Some habits never die, I guess.

The live chat immediately started speculating, their imaginations running wild:

*“Miles Sinclair knows Carter Dean’s sister?”*

*“Isn’t he the Prince of Manhattan, always at rooftop bars? Maybe they met at a party.”*

*“For real, she looks like a good girl, but turns out she’s a party animal too… Plot twist!”*

I really didn’t want haters before the show even started, so I stepped back, putting some distance between me and Miles. No way was I letting them slap a wild child label on me before we’d even started.

He caught on, dropped his hand, and slouched lazily back onto the couch, flashing a sheepish grin. He always knew when to play it cool. Guess some things never change.

The girl next to him greeted us with a sweet smile:

“Hi, Emmy, I’m Miles’s cousin, Hannah Sinclair!”

Wow, the little girl who used to trail after Miles with a perpetually runny nose had seriously glowed up! I barely recognized her, but the sparkle in her eyes was the same.

But she only greeted me, straight-up ignoring my brother. The tension was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

My brother looked confused and whispered:

“Why does she seem to hate me? What’d I ever do to her?”

*You really don’t remember?*

So I kindly reminded him:

“When you were little, you, uh, roasted her two pet chicks in the backyard.”

He suddenly remembered, scratched his nose and laughed awkwardly. Like he’d just realized he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Before we could sit, another SUV pulled up behind us, engine purring, like it was trying to show off.

A guy and a girl got out, looking around like they owned the place.

The guy in the white suit was Alex Reed, the pop idol. He’s my brother’s arch-nemesis, and rumor has it he actually pays people to spread dirt about Carter. The kind of Hollywood drama that never actually ends.

The girl was the new rising star, Bella Monroe, famous for her spoiled heiress image—her fans call her the “Park Avenue Princess.”