Chapter 22 (Jessica)

                                        

                                              
** This chapter includes scenes of emotional abuse, parental manipulation, and psychological control, as experienced through the adult's point of view. Reader discretion is advised, particularly for those sensitive to toxic parent-child dynamics or coercive family behavior.
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I heard the ding from my phone just as Brad was complaining about the restaurant's wine selection. I glanced at my phone, expecting another client email I could ignore until tomorrow—the housing market never slept, but Monday would be soon enough.
Parental Control Alert: Computer access detected outside permitted hours.
My fork paused halfway to my mouth. Computer access? Well now, Macy was supposed to be in her room. Grounded. No computer. No phone. No privileges.
"Are you listening to me?" Brad's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Of course," I said, sliding my thumb across the screen to open the monitoring app. "You were saying something about the Pinot."
But I wasn't listening anymore. The alert showed me that Macy had used the computer at 8:47 PM. Logged into Gmail. Stayed on for twelve minutes.
My jaw tightened. That little shit knew exactly what she was doing.
I lifted my phone up off the table, hand a little shaky—I'll need to take care of that later. I opened the detailed report—my appetite disappearing as I read. Email sent to Caden's email. Subject line: "Video."
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
"Jessica." Brad's tone was sharper now. "What's so important on your phone that you can't focus on our dinner?"
I looked up, forcing a smile. "Sorry. Work email from a client. You know how closings can be."
"On a Sunday night? Must be urgent."
"Just some last-minute paperwork questions. Nothing that can't wait until morning." I slipped the phone into my purse, but my mind was racing.
I mentally went through the monitoring report I'd just read—the email Macy thought she'd sent in secret. Apologizing to Daddy. Asking him to tell precious Felicity she "didn't forget."
Isn't that just so touching...My eleven-year-old daughter, going behind my back to grovel to her father's wife.
I'd clearly been too soft. I was too understanding. The gentle approach I'd taken—explaining that Felicity wasn't family, that loyalties had to be clear—it wasn't working. Macy wasn't getting the message.
Seems like it's time for a different strategy—a new approach to my daughter's thoughtlessness.
I pretended to focus on Brad's wine commentary with renewed attention, nodding at all the right pauses and agreeing to whatever he was blabbing on about. But really I was already planning. If Macy was reaching out to Caden, if Felicity was somehow making him more attentive to details than he used to be... well, I may need to prepare for the worst. If I've learned one thing over the years, it was that everything was about timing and perception. Most people never paid close enough attention to the details. Caden certainly hadn't. Felicity needs to stay in her lane. 
Macy thought she was so smart, using the computer after we'd left for dinner since I'd taken her phone. She thought she could play the sweet little girl and sneak behind my back.
She had another thing coming.
As a broker, I knew how to read between the lines, and to bury things between lines others don't read. I can see when someone was trying to game the system and I know how to do it better. How my own daughter thought she could outsmart me—she's going to have to learn.