I stormed through the front door.
Monica’s lower lip trembled. “Grandma, I don’t want to do it again.”
I stepped into the room. “Stop this right now.”
Brenda spun around. “Oh! Ella! What are you doing here? And you’re early.”
I didn’t answer her. I walked straight to the tripod. The phone recording was just over 3 minutes long. I stopped it.
“How many times have you made her repeat those words?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just the intro,” Brenda said. “She gets a little shy, and then she’s fine. The camera loves her! She’s just having a bit of an off day today. We were almost done.”
“Stop this right now.”
“The intro to what? Why are you recording her, Brenda?”
“Didn’t Simon tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Monica jumped off the stool and ran to me. She wrapped herself around my legs.
“I don’t like the light,” she whispered. “It’s too bright, Mommy.”
Just then, the front door opened.
“Ella? Why is your car here?” Simon entered the kitchen and stopped dead. “Is something wrong?”
“Didn’t Simon tell you?”
“Yes. Someone needs to explain all this to me, right now.” I gestured to the recording setup.
Simon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s for their baking videos, Ella. Mom told you about the first one, right? The one that went viral?”
“No. She didn’t. And neither did you.”
Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait — what? Mom, I thought you told her.”
Brenda looked flustered. “I thought you’d mentioned it! Haven’t you shown her the clips? They have thousands of likes, Simon!”
“Mom, I thought you told her.”
“Simon…” I said. The name was a warning.
“I’m sorry! It’s just a fun Grandma thing! I’ll show you now.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling. “Look, they’re adorable. Monica is laughing. She’s having the time of her life.”
I gestured to our daughter. “Does she look like she’s having the time of her life right now, Simon?”
He stopped scrolling and looked at Monica. His face crumbled. “She… she always looks happy in the videos.”
I turned to Brenda. “Explain.”
The name was a warning.
Brenda straightened her apron. “It started as fun. Truly. I recorded us baking. She spilled some flour, and she did that cute little giggle. I posted it on my private page, and suddenly it had thousands of likes, thousands of people commenting on how sweet she is. How special our bond is. I haven’t felt seen like that in years. I just wanted to keep sharing that.”
“At what cost, Brenda?” I picked Monica up. “For weeks, I’ve been wondering why my daughter was begging not to come here. And you,” I looked at Simon, “you should’ve connected the dots. You saw her ‘calm’ at pickup because she was spent.”
“I thought it was harmless,” Simon whispered. “I saw the finished videos. The comments… everyone was so positive.”
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