Love & All Things Broken

** 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.

"You know what?" I said, dabbing my lips with the napkin. "I think we should skip dessert tonight. I want to get home to Macy."

Brad raised an eyebrow. "Jess, she's grounded, right. Isn't she supposed to be in her room? Why do we need to get home early?"

"She is. But I think it's time for a mother-daughter conversation about respect. And consequences."

Brad was clearly not happy with me. I'll make it up to him later tonight. The drive home gave me time to plan. Macy was playing little Miss Innocent, probably pretending to be tucked away in bed by now—thinking she'd gotten away with her little rebellion. Looks like she still had no idea I monitored every keystroke and click she made.

Most parents use monitoring software. How else am I supposed to keep an eye on and ensure she doesn't start to have loyalties to the wrong person—to the wrong woman—in the wrong place?

I let myself in quietly, having noted that Macy's light was off when we drove up. Good. She thought she was being so careful.

I walked up the stairs slowly, deliberately, my heels clicking on the hardwood just loud enough to announce my presence. Standing at her door, I could hear the rustle of movement inside—probably rushing to pretend she is asleep.

I knocked once, then opened the door without waiting for permission.

"Mom?" Macy's voice was perfectly pitched—surprised but sleepy, but I could tell she was faking a wake up voice.

She was good. I'd give her that.

"Hi, sweetheart." I stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind me. "Did you have a good evening?"

"Yeah. I did some homework and went to bed early."

"That's good. Very responsible." I moved closer to her bed, noting how her eyes tracked my movement. I looked around the room casually—her desk chair had clothes draped over it, backpack in the corner—no Dior bag anywhere though. "Where's that beautiful purse Daddy got you? I wanted to see how you're taking care of it."

Macy's face flushed slightly. "It's... I left it at dad's."

"Hmmm. That's smart. Such an expensive piece—you want to make sure it stays perfect." I smiled softly. "I was actually hoping I could borrow it sometime. I have a client event next month and I thought it would be perfect with my navy dress."

"Oh. Um. Maybe?"

Interesting. The hesitation told me something had happened. Either the bag was damaged already—which would be typical Macy—or there was more to this 온라인카지노게임 than I'd been told. I'm betting Felicity knew I'd want to use it and was trying to keep it away from me. Yup. She definitely needs to stay in her lane.

"You know, I've been thinking about our conversation earlier. About Felicity."

I could swear I saw Macy's shoulders tense. "Oh. Okay."

"I realize I may have been too harsh. You're growing up, and you're going to form attachments to people. That's natural."

Hope flickered across her face. "Really?"

"Really." I sat on the edge of her bed, smoothing the comforter with maternal care. "But I also think there are things about adult relationships you don't understand. It's not your fault obviously. It's just that, well honey—sometimes, when marriages are in trouble, children get caught in the middle."

"In trouble? What do you mean?"

"Well, you probably noticed some tension between Felicity and your father. I didn't want to say, but I think it would be good for you to know a little bit—your father and Felicity have been having some problems lately."

Macy's eyes widened. "Problems?"

"Oh, honey," I sighed. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this." I almost whispered, looking down at my hands—as if wrestling with whether to continue. "But I think you're old enough now to understand. Sometimes when couples fight, they use children to send messages. To make the other person feel guilty."

"I don't understand."

"Think about it, sweetheart. These last few months or so, haven't you talked about Felicity trying to do more things with you when your dad had to work? Why do you think she's been doing that? All that special attention, encouraging you to spend more time with her."

I watched confusion cloud her features. Perfect.

"Because she cares about me?"

"Oh, I'm sure she does—in some way. But she also knows that if you're happy there, it makes your father happy." I paused for a moment. "And you know, if your father is happy, maybe he won't leave her."

Seeds of doubt were planted. I could see them root a bit, now I could let Macy's own insecurity water it.

"But...no. Really? No, Mom, she's not like that." Then she whispered, "she's nice to me."

"Of course she is, baby. That's how these things work—it feels good at first. It's only later, when everything falls apart, where the kids are left hurting." I brushed a strand of hair from her face with practiced tenderness. "And you're my baby. Of course I don't want you to be the one left hurting. Because things will fall apart, Macy. They always do."

"Dad wouldn't leave her. Would he?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. Marriage is complicated. What I do know is that, when children get too attached, they suffer."

I let that sink in for a moment, watching her process the implications.

"I can't tell you how to feel—I would never do something like that. I just want you to be careful, okay? Guard your heart a little bit. Don't let yourself be used as a pawn in their game."

"Is that why you didn't want me to make the video for her?"

Smart girl. "Partly, yes. I'm concerned that you're telling her you're sorry for something. And whatever it is, I'm sure you're just taking responsibility for adult problems that aren't your fault. And that's not fair to you."

Macy nodded slowly, and I could see the doubt continuing to take root. Good.

"Now, I want you to get some sleep. And tomorrow, we're going to have a conversation about computer privileges. You were such a good girl tonight—following the rules... And hearing me out. I think maybe you've earned some of those privileges back."

I kissed her forehead, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. My daughter. Mine.

"I love you, Macy. More than anyone else ever could."

"I love you too, Mom."

At the door, I paused. "Oh, and sweetheart? If your father asks about visiting this week, why don't you tell him you'd rather stay home with me. You don't have to tell him you know about their problems. It's just until he and Felicity work things out."

"But Mom—"

"Trust me on this one, okay? It's for the best."

I closed her door softly, leaving her alone with her doubts and thoughts.

By morning, she'd be questioning every kind thing Felicity had ever made. By next week, she'd be pulling away on her own, protecting herself from the inevitable disappointment.

My heels clicked against the hardwood while I walked downstairs, satisfaction felt in every step. Things were working out perfectly—Macy would pull back from Felicity, and any suspicion from Caden, well—that would just create more tension in his precious little marriage.

In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of Pinot. Brad would be waiting for me upstairs, probably still irritated at me for cutting the evening short. I'd need to smooth that over. Maybe I'd tell him I was worried about Macy's behavior lately, that I needed to nip some of this pre-teen rebellion in the bud before it becomes a bigger issue when she does become a teenager. He'd understand that—Brad appreciated a firm hand with discipline.

I took a sip of wine and pulled out my phone, scrolling through my work emails. Three new pre-approval requests, one contract question, and a reminder about the Henderson Avenue closing on Wednesday. Normal Sunday night business.

I needed to remember to email Lauren about the credit card replacement. She hadn't responded to my last request, which was unusual. Normally she was so efficient about handling Caden's expenses.

The wine warmed my throat as I finished the glass and poured another glass to bring to our room. Reaching into my bag, I grabbed a pill–couldn't work with a headache tomorrow–it's going to be a busy day. At the end of the day, maybe take Macy shopping for school clothes—a little mother-daughter bonding to reinforce tonight's message and ensure her loyalties. It's for her own good, I reminded myself. Even if she hates me for it later.

I climbed the stairs, already planning my approach with Brad. A little wine on my breath, an apology for being distracted, maybe some pointed attention. Men were so predictable.

But as I reached the top of the stairs, I could hear Brad on the phone in our bedroom, his voice muffled but clearly agitated. I paused outside the door, listening.

"—told you, the timeline moved up. We need those permits approved by Friday or the whole deal falls through."

Work call. Perfect. That would put him in a mood, but it also meant he'd be distracted from tonight's dinner drama. I could work with that.

I pushed the door open, giving him an apologetic smile as I mouthed "sorry" and pointed toward the bathroom. I kissed his cheek and left my wine in front of him, my hands still a little unsteady. He nodded curtly, taking the glass for a sip, he remained focused on his conversation.

In the bathroom, I took my time with my cellular rejuvenation routine, letting the familiar ritual calm my thoughts. La Prairie — Platinum Rare. Obscenely expensive, yes—but absolutely worth it. Sleek with a soft scent and clinical, the texture a whisper against my skin. I'd once read about how the formula was designed to restore what age and stress tried to steal. Going through my routine, I also felt shaking ease in my hands.

Good. Let it restore everything.

I dabbed the serum beneath my eyes, smoothing it upward. Felicity could keep her coffee dates and her soft laugh and her stories about books Macy "just had to read." She could keep that garden and her sad little kitchen and her whole pretending-to-be-warm routine.

But she couldn't keep my daughter.

And she wouldn't win.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Brad had finished his call and was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his tablet.

"Sorry about tonight," I said, moving to sit beside him. "Macy's been testing boundaries lately, and I thought it was important to address it right away."

He looked up from his screen. "What kind of boundaries?"

"Sneaking around, not following rules when we're out. You know how eleven-year-olds can be." I leaned against his shoulder. "I just don't want it to escalate."

"Makes sense." His voice had softened. "How'd it go?"

"Good, I think. We had a productive conversation about respect and consequences. I think she understands now."

Brad nodded, setting his tablet aside. "That's important."

"Exactly." I kissed his cheek. Climbed astride his lap. A good distraction may be just what's needed. "How was your call? You sounded stressed," I asked, kissing along his neck.

"City's dragging their feet on the Morrison project. But we'll figure it out." He pulled me close. "I'm sorry I was short with you at dinner. I know you have a lot on your hands."

Perfect.