Chapter 4: Lights, Camera, Catastrophe

I forwarded this post to a friend.

I texted Maddie the link, not even bothering to add context. I knew she’d get a kick out of it—she loved a good online train wreck as much as I did.

She quickly replied with a question mark.

"What is this?"

Her response was instant. I could imagine her sitting on her porch, iced tea in hand, eyebrow arched in confusion.

I didn’t explain, just said: "Your account hasn’t gotten much traffic lately, right? Why not try a hot topic? An irresponsible mom, a missing dad, a grandma picking up the pieces—perfect for going viral."

I figured she’d see the potential—a story like this could blow up overnight. Plus, it wasn’t technically a lie. Just… not the whole truth.

She sent me several confused memes in a row: "Whoever you are, get off Aubrey’s account."

Classic Maddie—her reaction GIFs always said more than words. I grinned, then hit the call button to clear things up.

Helpless, I called her and quickly explained the post’s content.

I kept it short—just the gist of the drama. She listened, then let out a low whistle, clearly impressed by the absurdity of it all.

"I’m not asking for anything else, just help me blow this up. You get the clicks, I find the person—win-win."

I dangled the bait, hoping she’d bite. Maddie was a sucker for a wild story, especially if it meant her socials might get some much-needed love.

After a moment of silence, my friend said: "Don’t worry, I’ll take on this ‘search for relatives’ story."

The way she said it, I knew she was already plotting the hashtags and thumbnail. Sometimes, having a friend who loves drama pays off.