Chapter 4: Family Pressure, Fierce Resolve

Mom never cries. All the way home, I wondered what could’ve done it. My dad spoils her so much—he’d never dare upset her.

When I got home, my mom rushed over and hugged me. “Honey, you’ve suffered so much!”

What did I miss? I looked at my dad in confusion. He sighed. “It’s because of you. She read all those nasty online comments and cried.”

Oh. I immediately understood. My mom thought I’d been wronged. But honestly, I’ve always been the one doing the bullying, not the other way around.

Not that I’d tell her. “Mom, I’m fine. That’s just part of being a celebrity—always under scrutiny. But think about it: if I wasn’t popular, no one would bother attacking me. If the day comes when I’m not trending, my career’s probably over.”

My mom wiped her tears and held my hand. “Honey, why suffer like this? Why not just come home and take over the family business?”

Me: …

Double-teamed. Now my parents were teaming up to try to talk me out of my career. Not fair!

They kept trying to persuade me to take a break from acting.

“Honey, filming is so exhausting. You shoot winter scenes in summer and summer scenes in winter. It breaks my heart.”

“Your mom’s right. You’re still young—don’t ruin your health.”

“Why not take six months off and stay home with your mom?”

“Your mom’s right. Stay home, or go travel with her.”

Nice try, though. If I weren’t strong-willed, I might’ve caved.

“Dad, Mom, I know you care about me. But I really love acting. All those hardships you mentioned—I don’t see them as suffering. I actually enjoy it, because it’s my job. No job is easy. Dad, your work is tough sometimes too, right?”

He was proud. My dad’s eyes got misty. “You’ve grown up. You really understand now.”

I turned to my mom. “Mom, you love dancing, and you still dance every day. Isn’t that the same?”

My mom thought about it. “You’re right. We should support what you love!”

For now. I breathed a sigh of relief. Problem solved!

Lesson learned. As I left, I overheard my parents talking behind me.

“Weren’t we supposed to talk her into staying with a little guilt and a little logic?”

“Why does it feel like she’s grown up and can’t be fooled anymore?”

Me: …

Come on. See? If you want to fool your kids, start early. Wait till they’re my age, and they’ll turn the tables on you.

My place isn’t exactly next door—even with a spaceship, I couldn’t teleport.

What is this, a drug test? He leaned in and sniffed me all over. Seriously… enough!

Here we go. “What are you doing?”

Julian looked at me, aggrieved. “You didn’t drink, did you?”

Of course not. Why would I drink at home?

He really is just like my dad said—a fool for a boyfriend.

I grabbed his ear, speechless with frustration. “Julian, what kind of person do you think I am? Am I really that shameless to you?”

Here we go. He was at a loss for words, finally muttering, “I do trust you, but…”

Typical. “Shut up!”

See? Men always say they trust you, but act like you’re on probation. Up in the middle of the night waiting in my room—Julian, you’re something else.

Big softie. Realizing I was truly mad, he softened instantly, holding my hand gently. “Savannah, please don’t be mad. It’s my fault—I should have trusted you. But you know, I really love you.”

He looked at me with puppy eyes. “That Mr. Monroe—he’s forty or fifty, old enough to be your dad. Don’t blame me for saying this, but as a man, I know men. He looks shifty—not a good person. I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.”

My dad, shifty and untrustworthy? I couldn’t help but laugh. “Julian, if he hears you say that, you’ll regret it.”

Julian’s face darkened. “You care more about his feelings than mine.”

Mr. Monroe is not just my dad, but also my boss. Of course I care.

He was acting all grumpy, but I couldn’t blame him. He was just being protective.

I softened, lowering my voice. “Alright, don’t be mad. I care about you too.”

Really, Julian? Julian looked at me. “Between me and Mr. Monroe, who do you care about more?”

Me: …

Unbelievable. Aren’t men supposed to be magnanimous? But when they get petty, I can barely handle it.

…

Whoops. Because Julian announced our relationship without consulting the company, he violated his contract and had to pay a hefty penalty. I felt bad for him, but he didn’t even blink.

To make it up to him, I didn’t go home for half a month. My dad ended up coming to the set to pick me up, grumbling, “Girls really do leave home when they grow up!”

Me: …

Good thing Julian was away filming, or it would’ve been awkward.

Interrogation time. My dad inspected my apartment, half-joking, “Where’s that boyfriend of yours?”

“Filming!”

He was on a mission. He wandered into the kitchen, eyeing the food. “I haven’t even tasted your cooking, but he has?”

I hurried to explain. “It wasn’t me, he cooked for me.”

My dad snorted. “That’s more like it. Wait—are you two living together?”

I nearly choked. “No! It’s just that you have him watching me so closely.”

Drama, part two. He huffed, “What’s that about? I can’t see my own daughter, but he can?”

Not easy. I felt stuck in the middle, getting it from both sides—soothing Julian, then my dad, and keeping them apart.

Nothing’s good enough. My dad even criticized the leftovers in the fridge. “Look at this—doesn’t even look fresh. Not as good as my cooking, right?”

I thought to myself, Of course it doesn’t look good—it’s been sitting out all day. But I couldn’t say that out loud.

“Of course Dad’s cooking is best. I grew up on your food!”

Got to keep him happy. I massaged his shoulders, playing the dutiful daughter.

Mood swing. He smiled, then suddenly sighed. “One day, you’ll get used to his cooking instead.”

He’s good. My dad really knows how to be passive-aggressive. When did everyone get so good at it?

Truer words. People say women are hard to understand, but jealous men are even harder.

Switching gears. After finally sending my dad off, Julian rushed back.

He was in a good mood. “Finished filming?”

“What’s the rush?”

Julian pinched my cheek, smiling dotingly. “Didn’t you say you wanted clam chowder? I found a recipe and want to try it tonight.”

Could get used to this. His words melted my heart.

Watching him work in the kitchen, I couldn’t resist hugging him from behind, resting my face on his broad back.

No hiding it now. “Hungry from waiting?”

“No. Julian, what do you like about me?”

Julian never seemed to mind, always doting on me.

“Loving someone doesn’t need a reason.”

He knew something was up. I hesitated, a little guilty. “Julian, just suppose—if one day you found out I wasn’t what you imagined, or if you found out I’d lied to you, would you be mad?”

He thought for a moment, then answered seriously, “Savannah, I love you, flaws and all. I’ll accept everything about you. As for lying to me…”

He raised an eyebrow, giving a playful smile.

Distraction tactic. “Tell me, what did you lie about?”

Feeling guilty and not ready to come clean, I joked, lifting his chin and whispering in his ear, “I seduced you!”

Worked like a charm. As soon as I said it, Julian kissed me, and the room filled with a warm, intimate atmosphere.

…

Can’t win. My relationship with Julian grew more stable, but the online hate toward me only got worse. They said I wasn’t good enough for Julian, that I only got into showbiz thanks to a sugar daddy, that I didn’t really love Julian—just wanted the perks.

Not worth it. My agent told me not to get upset. I just smiled. “Why get mad? It’s not true. The truth will speak for itself.”

“Exactly. Glad you think that way.”

If only she knew. My agent was hired by my dad, thinking I was a spoiled princess who couldn’t handle criticism. She had no idea I didn’t care at all.

Old news. I’d gone through this before, back in school. My dad would pick me up, and nosy classmates would spread rumors that I was a gold-digger. Back then, I cried all night. My dad told me that everyone faces hardship and gossip in life. What matters is not letting it get to you.

Let them talk. So even with all the hate online, I just kept working hard, determined to prove myself.