Chapter 15 - The Money Under the Smiles
A year after the livestream, David received the final BrightHouse accounting report.
He expected numbers.
He did not expect grief.
The report showed every major campaign.
Date.
Revenue.
Expenses.
Net amount.
Next to them, David remembered pieces of Ava’s life.
The pancake video paid $8,500.
That money covered hospital bills.
A bedtime-routine campaign earned $12,200.
That month they replaced the roof.
The cereal video Maya had flagged earned $17,000.
That paid down a vehicle.
The birthday sponsorship had been worth $24,000 before cancellation.
Everything ordinary in their family had acquired a price after the fact.
David called Madison.
“I got the report.”
“So did I.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
Silence.
Then Madison said, “Do you ever miss the money?”
David wanted to say no.
He did not.
“Yes.”
“So do I.”
He exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saying it.”
Madison laughed softly.
“I miss not worrying about bills. I miss being able to fix things by booking a campaign.”
“Same.”
“That scares me.”
“Same.”
Their new lives were smaller.
David picked up occasional overtime.
Madison worked full-time in event planning.
They budgeted.
They postponed purchases.
It was less glamorous.
Ava seemed not to notice.
Her priorities were snacks and whether Priya could sleep over.
That itself was an indictment of the adults’ previous logic.
They had told themselves the money gave Ava a better life.
Ava preferred yellow curtains and pancake breakfasts nobody photographed.
Dr. Price eventually reduced therapy frequency.
Not because everything was solved.
Because Ava was functioning well.
She still occasionally asked permission around food.
She still became anxious when adults went silent after conflict.
She still disliked unexpected cameras.
But she spoke more quickly when uncomfortable.
That was progress.
Madison’s contact became unsupervised for short daytime periods after months of review and agreement among the adults and professionals involved.
The first time David dropped Ava at Madison’s apartment alone, his hands shook on the steering wheel.
Ava noticed.
“You scared?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Grown-up reasons.”
She nodded solemnly.
“I have those too.”
He smiled.
Madison opened the apartment door.
No phone visible.
Ava ran inside.
David stayed long enough to see the second bedroom.
It now contained art supplies, books and a small bed.
No ring lights.
No tripod.
No product shelves.
Ava had taped drawings to the walls.
One showed Madison with enormous purple hair.
Madison saw David looking.
“I’ve been informed that’s accurate.”
“Very.”
Ava shouted from the kitchen.
“Can we make cupcakes?”
Madison replied, “Yes.”
A pause.
Then she added, “And you can eat them.”
Ava rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I know.”
That eye roll made Madison smile.
The adults were no longer announcing freedom every five minutes.
Ava was beginning to assume it.
That was better.
Later, Madison and Ava made six cupcakes.
Three looked terrible.
Ava frosted one with so much icing it collapsed.
Madison’s old instinct appeared instantly.
Fix it.
Clean it.
Make another.
Instead she said, “Impressive.”
“It died.”
“Yes.”
Ava ate it anyway.
That evening, Ava asked to borrow Madison’s phone.
Madison stiffened.
“For what?”
“To call Daddy.”
“Sure.”
Ava made the call.
Then, after talking to David, she opened the camera by accident.
Her own face appeared.
She stared at it.
Madison watched but said nothing.
Ava tilted the phone.
Made a silly face.
Then another.
Madison laughed.
Ava turned the camera toward her.
“Do one.”
Madison crossed her eyes.
Ava shrieked.
They took four ridiculous selfies.
Then Ava stopped.
“Can we keep them?”
Madison swallowed.
“If you want.”
“Don’t post.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Madison created a private folder protected by the phone’s passcode.
Not a business archive.
Not content.
Just pictures.
When David picked Ava up, she told him immediately.
“We took pictures.”
He looked at Madison.
She said, “Ava asked.”
A year earlier, the sentence might have been manipulation.
Now Ava interrupted.
“I really did.”
David smiled.
“I believe you.”
That night, he received one of the selfies because Ava requested it.
Madison’s eyes were crossed.
Ava’s face was blurred from laughing.
David stared at it.
Then he did something he had not done in months.
May you like
He laughed without feeling afraid of the camera.
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