Back home, I faked excitement for Eric. "Wild, right? Random people were stopping me to say how cute Luca is. Maybe he really could be a child star."

Eric lit up. "You're already a talent agent—why waste your hookups on strangers? Luca's perfect. We could push the pretty-boy heartthrob thing... or the fun, boy-next-door vibe."

I just stared at him.

Next day, I dragged Luca to the office. Eric, obviously, had to tag along.

In the studio, Luca beamed at the camera like a total idiot. I rubbed my forehead.

Last time around, I somehow turned this painfully average kid into a star. Guess I was a miracle worker.

The crew looked ready to murder me after hours of useless shots. Their faces were darker than coffee.

I grabbed a few of the worst pics, tossed them into a "portfolio," and called it a day so everyone could escape.

Eric, of course, was starstruck.

"If Luca doesn't make it, who could? He just needs a résumé. Sign him up for competitions!"

Yeah, sure I will. The kiddie pageant crowd was always short on bodies. Luca could finally play background filler.

I dumped him into every cheap contest out there, rigged him a stack of worthless ribbons, and even cooked up a fake "exclusive magazine" with his face on the cover now and then—just enough to keep him and Eric hyped.

Then I went all in and staged a debut press conference full of paid cheerleaders.

Two months in, Luca had "speed-ran" his way to stardom.

Eric was ecstatic, clutching his kid's "killer résumé" like it was buried treasure.

"Think he can land ads now? I've seen kids in commercials pulling in thousands a month!"

I almost cracked up. I patted his shoulder. "Thousands? Please. At Luca's level, one gig's worth tens of thousands. Brands are already lined up begging for him, throwing in bonuses just to lock him down."

Eric's eyes lit up, glued to the fake schedule in my hand.

His account was bone dry. Gregory and Meredith had probably been scraping pennies somewhere, the whole clan hanging their last hopes on Luca's "big break."

And honestly? I was rooting for it even harder.

Come on already—I'd set the stage, played every card. All I needed was Gregory and Meredith crawling back from the dead and Eric's "first love" dropping from the sky.

Eric didn't disappoint.

Next day, I walked in to find Gregory and Meredith—months "dead"—parked in my living room like they owned it. Tammy sat beside them, dabbing fake tears while hugging Luca.

The old couple whipped out a pre-written divorce agreement and slapped it in my face.

"What good is a wife who won't give us grandkids? Get out. Tammy's the only daughter-in-law we accept."

Tammy smirked over Luca's shoulder. "Thanks for raising my son so well. You've worked hard."

Eric looked ready to say something, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

"I'll divorce. But Luca's adopted under my name. He's my son now. You want him? Fine—then the house and car are mine. Otherwise, forget it."