When you recognize your own former playbook and want to crawl into a hole.
My hands are shaking. I set the phone down before Ben notices.
I should have let Jag take her fucking phone.
Shit shit shit.
“Jess?” She’s looking at me with those big brown eyes. “You’re making the worried face again.”
“Just thinking about dinner,” I lie. Force a smile. “What does Frederick want? Pasta or sandwiches?”
“Pasta of course. Always pasta. Daddy makes it so good.” She goes back to counting shells on her worksheet.
I pick up my phone and text Amara back:Saw it. What’s the move?
Three dots appear immediately.Sabrina’s already drafting takedown language. She wants to loop you in. Conference call in ten?
I’ll be there.
I finish Ben’s math lesson on autopilot. Get her set up with Rosa for dinner. Then I head to the smallest guest room and close the door.
The call connects at exactly five thirty. Sabrina’s face fills my screen. She looks calm. Professional. Like she eats crisis management for breakfast.
“Okay,” she starts without preamble. “Here’swhat we’re dealing with. The post has been up for two hours. It’s gaining traction fast. Comments are split between people defending you and people calling for intervention.”
“Great.” My voice comes out flat. “So I’m either a hero or a child abuser depending on the algorithm.”
“Basically.” Sabrina’s mouth quirks. Not quite a smile. “But here’s the thing. We’re not engaging with the noise. We’re going surgical. Takedown based on privacy, dignity, and minors off-camera.”
Amara’s voice cuts in from audio-only. “I’ve already drafted the language. It’s clean. No accusations. Just facts. The child is identifiable. Consent wasn’t obtained. The post violates privacy standards.”
“Will it work?” I ask.
“Depends on how fast Instagram acts,” Sabrina replies. “I’ve already got in touch with my contact at Meta. Should be down within the hour.” Another pause. “Jess, are you holding up okay?”
Am I holding up okay?
Let’s see. I’m trapped in my boss’s house during a media siege. A parent just posted a video of his traumatized daughter and implied I’m neglectful. My face is currently being dissected by thousands of strangers.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just focused on protecting Ben.”
Sabrina makes a sound that suggests she doesn’t believe me but won’t push.
“Okay,” Sabrina says. “Amara, you’re on legal backup if the parent pushes back.”
“What about Marco?” Amara asks. “Does he know?”
My stomach twists. “Not yet.”
“Jess.” Sabrina’s tone sharpens. “You know that as his PR Consultant, I’m contractually obligated to tell him, right?If you don’t...”
“I will.” I’m already dreading it. “Just give me some lead time.”
“Why?”
“Because you know what he’ll do. He’ll want to mobilize his entire legal team. Destroy this person. He’ll turn it into a war instead of a surgical strike.”
Sabrina’s quiet for a beat. “I suppose you’re not wrong.”
