Cameron Rogers Facebook ad: “2026's Hottest Book Click To Read, Grab Your Copy Now”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

983828360782980

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network and Threads

Relaunches

0

Niche

Parenting & Kids

How we count

Ad text

At my stepsister Chloe’s graduation party, a news camera was practically shoved in my dad’s face. “Sir, are you familiar with June Hart? She’s this state’s only U.S. Presidential Scholar.” My father froze. The biological daughter he’d always dismissed—the one who was “average, good for nothing but some local college”—had just become the only U.S. Presidential Scholar in the entire state. And Chloe, my stepsister, the girl this whole party was for, had suddenly become an afterthought. Just a few hours earlier, my stepmother had warned me not to show up, claiming I would “ruin the mood.” My father had let her take the college fund my late mother left me and use it to buy Chloe a Jeep as a graduation gift. The boy I had a crush on, in a pathetic attempt to impress Chloe, had forgotten all about my life-threatening peanut allergy and then blamed me for “killing the vibe.” They belittled me while taking what was mine, and somehow, they thought that was perfectly normal. By now, they were probably frantic, searching for me—shocked, regretful, and desperate to make things right. All so they could use my new title to polish their own tarnished egos. Too bad. I was already on a plane to Seattle. All I’d done was block their numbers and turn off my phone. … My phone buzzed. A text from Mason. *June, just pick a school in Massachusetts so we can all be in the same state.* I glanced at the computer screen and didn’t reply. On it were two emails. One was the official nomination notice from the U.S. Presidential Scholars Program. The other was an acceptance letter from the University of Washington’s Honors Program, offering a full scholarship. I felt almost nothing. I knew that in my family, news like this wouldn’t earn me a single word of congratulations. It would be treated as bragging, or worse, some ridiculous lie. I was used to it. Back in junior year, I’d been the only student in my school to make the semifinal round of the U.S. National Chemistry Olympiad. Clutching the notification letter, I cautiously approached my dad, Mark. He was wearing headphones, absorbed in a video of Chloe’s cheer competition from the week before. “Dad, I…” He didn’t even look up, just gave an absentminded grunt. My stepmother, Dana, came out of the kitchen with a plate of fruit. She glanced at the letter in my hand and curled her lip. “What’s the point of all this flashy nonsense? All you do is bury your head in books. You should learn from Chloe—get out more, socialize, build connections. That’s what actually helps with college applications.” After that day, I never mentioned another academic honor in front of them. In this house, everything revolved around Chloe. I was the easiest person to overlook. She took after Dana—blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sweet smile. The kind of girl people called an all-American sweetheart. And me? I was ordinary. I inherited my birth mother’s black hair and her quiet nature. When neighbors saw me, all they ever said was, “June is such a quiet child.” I once gave Chloe the only dolphin necklace my mother had left me, all because she threw a fit over wanting it, and all I wanted was to hear my father say, just once, “You’re such a good big sister, June.” As I got older, I deliberately kept my grades in the upper-middle range—not outstanding, not terrible—just so I wouldn’t be a problem for my father. And Chloe, polished by the expensive college consultants and private tutors my stepmother hired, became the family’s shiny “straight-A student.” Our roles had been assigned long ago. She was meant to be dazzling. I was meant to be the backdrop. I took a deep breath and stepped out of my room, planning to get some air in the backyard. In the sun, Mason was with Chloe. He was crouched on the lawn, attentively wrapping the grip tape on her new top-of-the-line tennis racket. “Chloe, your backhand is getting so much better.” He looked up at her, admiration clear in his gaze. “The club has an ......

Where the ad sends people

read.unlimitednovels.com

2026's Hottest Book 🍷🔥 Click To Read — Grab Your Copy Now 👈