Chapter 2: Reality Show, Real Stakes

Right now, I’m with Autumn on a parent-child wilderness survival reality show—the very show that marks the turning point for both Autumn and Lila’s careers and love lives! For Autumn, it’s a disaster. For Lila, it’s her big break.

The cameras were everywhere—hidden in trees, peeking from behind rocks. I could hear the faint buzz of a drone overhead, and the pressure of being watched was suffocating. I knew what was at stake: one wrong move, and we’d be headline news for all the wrong reasons. No pressure, right?

If I don’t change the plot, I’ve only got three years left to live. That thought hit me like a cold splash of river water.

So I scrambled out of the tent, the chilly grass soaking my bare feet, and ran straight to Autumn, hugging her leg tight. My heart hammered in my chest, breath coming out in little clouds.

My little arms wrapped around her, clinging with all the desperation of a kid who knows what it’s like to lose everything. The dew soaked through my pajamas. I didn’t care. I needed her to feel how much I needed her.

She froze for a second, then looked down at me, her voice soft as a summer breeze. “Daisy, sweetheart, it’s chilly out here—go back inside.”

She brushed a stray curl from my forehead, concern etched in every line of her face. Her hands trembled just a little, betraying her nerves for the cameras. Guess I wasn’t the only one faking it.

I blinked, shook my head, and piped up in my best little-kid voice, “Mama, let’s give both bottles of water we found to Aunt Lila. Daisy doesn’t need any, but Auntie’s been stuck in her tent and can’t find water. She must be so sad.” Let the cameras eat that up.

As soon as I said this, Lila’s entitled expression faltered. Gotcha.

She blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. For a split second, she dropped the act. I saw the wheels turning.

I bit my cheek. Forced my mouth into a pout. No way was I letting the cameras catch on to my scheme. Five years old. Just a sweet, clueless kid. Or so they thought.

Lila really does have some nerve—she always asks the kids for help, never the adults. Honestly, it was impressive.

She’d perfected the art of playing helpless, always letting the little ones do the heavy lifting. It was like watching a professional mooch at work.

So I deliberately spoke with a double meaning—I wanted the viewers to see how messed up it was, her letting kids do all the work.

I made sure to look straight into the nearest camera, lips trembling, hoping the editors would catch the subtext. Fine. If you can’t beat the system, might as well play to the crowd.

Sure enough, the live chat blew up. Bingo.

Comments poured in—little hearts, angry emojis, the chat going nuts.

“Huh? Why does Lila suddenly seem a little sketchy?”

“Exactly! I just realized—every time she asks for supplies, she’s really asking the kids!”

“But this little girl is so adorable! That sweet smile is melting my heart!”

“Honestly, is it really okay for Lila to slack off every day on a survival show?”

You could practically feel the tide turning. People were finally starting to see through her.

Today is day four of filming—and Lila’s fourth day of doing nothing. Figures.

The crew had started making jokes about it behind the scenes, and even the sound guy was rolling his eyes. The only thing Lila had broken a sweat over was picking out her outfit each morning. Priorities, right?

Because there are kids, the show isn’t too harsh. Every team gets a comfy two-person tent. The celebrity moms just have to bring their kids, complete outdoor adventure tasks, and find hidden ingredients to cook with. It was like summer camp with a camera crew—except the stakes were higher, and the parents were famous. The air smelled of pine needles and sunscreen. I could hear birdsong in the distance. Almost drowned out the hum of the generators.

Everyone’s out hustling for survival—except Lila, who’s been lounging since day one. She makes her godson, Ryder, do everything for her. He’s only seven, barely knows anything, and struggles to gather supplies.

I watched him from across the clearing, his little face scrunched in concentration as he fumbled with a fishing pole twice his size. It was heartbreaking and infuriating all at once.

By day two, Lila had learned to ask the other teams for help. Since it’s a livestream, everyone helps a bit. Each team chips in. Ryder brings back a little. And somehow, Lila ends up with the most supplies.

It was the oldest trick in the book—let the others carry you, then bask in the applause. Classic.

The mooching was outrageous, but because she’s the heroine with a stunning face, the audience spun it as “quirky”—a breath of fresh air. Overnight, she was everywhere: #SlackerQueen.

Originally, Lila was D-list with few fans, nowhere near Autumn, who’s infamous but has a loyal following. Yet in just three days, Lila’s fan count is creeping up to B-list. Her Insta was blowing up—even the show’s official account couldn’t keep up.

I remember in the novel, after the show aired, Lila siphoned off most of Autumn’s fans and shot up to A-list status. It was like watching a slow-motion train wreck. I could see the warning signs, but nobody else seemed to care.

Maybe it’s the first time her freeloading has been called out, but Lila’s smile is about to crack. Still, she’s not dropping the act.

She turned on the charm, voice syrupy sweet, eyes darting to the cameras as she tried to recover. You could almost hear the gears turning in her head. I wasn’t buying it.

“Autumn, we should help each other, right? Look, Ryder worked so hard but only found some berries—no water at all.” She really played it up, holding Ryder’s hand for the cameras. The kid looked up at her, confused but loyal.

“Kids can’t go a whole day without water. Autumn, you have two bottles, don’t you? We only need one.”

She’s clearly targeting Autumn. She knew Autumn was a pushover.

She batted her lashes, voice trembling just enough to sound pitiful. Almost. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have fallen for it myself.

But I’m no pushover. Fine, you want drama? I’ll give you drama.

Just as Autumn hesitated about giving both bottles to Lila, I tugged at her skirt. Everyone was watching.

I put on my best puppy-dog eyes, lower lip trembling. I could feel the eyes of the entire production crew on us.

“Mama… could you bend down for a second… please…”

I kept my voice small, barely above a whisper, like I was about to share the world’s biggest secret.

“Huh?”

She blinked, but bent down, her voice gentle. “Daisy, what’s wrong? Do you want to tell Mama something?” Her hair brushed my cheek as she leaned in. Her perfume mixed with the pine needles and morning mist.

I shook my head, then suddenly reached out, grabbing both bottles of water from her arms. Don’t drop them. Not now.

Before Autumn could react, I wobbled over to Lila, bottles in hand. Let the cameras catch that.

I made sure to stumble just a little, as if the bottles were too heavy for me. The cameras zoomed in, catching every tremor in my step.

Big-eyed kids always look pure and innocent, so I worked up some tears. By the time I reached Lila and struggled to hand her the bottles, my eyes were shimmering with tears—one falling with every few words I spoke. Seriously, give me an Oscar.

“Auntie, don’t be sad. Daisy isn’t thirsty at all… I’ll give you everything…” I set the bottles at her feet, barely whispering.

I flashed my brightest, most innocent smile, hoping it would melt even the coldest heart. Let’s see them try to resist that.

But just as I smiled, Autumn’s eyes filled with tears. She was really hurting.