“He’s going to find out eventually,” Amara points out. “His security team monitors this stuff.”
“I know.” My face heats up. “But by then hopefully we’ll have the takedown processed.”
Sabrina nods slowly. “Surgical response. No feeding the drama. Kind of a good idea.”
“Plus,” I add, trying to keep my voice steady, “I sort of understand where this parent is coming from.”
Both of them go silent.
“Not the posting part,” I clarify quickly. “Obviously that’s violating. But the impulse? The concern-trolling masked as care? I used to do that. I used to farm engagement off other people’s pain and call it community building.”
When you recognize yourself in the villain.
Again.
“That was different,” Amara says firmly. “You never went after kids.”
“Didn’t I though?” The question sits heavy in my chest. “Every time I posted about family-friendly restaurants without asking permission. Every time I filmed in public spaces where children were visible. Every time I prioritized content over consent.”
Sabrina’s expression softens. “Jess. You’re spiraling.”
She’s right. I am.
“I just don’t want to destroy this person,” I tellthem. Like I was destroyed, essentially. “I want the video down. I want Ben protected. But I don’t want to ruin someone’s life over a mistake I probably would have made myself a year ago.”
“That’s very mature of you,” Sabrina says carefully. “But if they don’t take it down voluntarily, or Meta doesn’t do it for us, we proceed with enforcement. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
The call wraps. I sit on the edge of the bed staring at my phone.
The video is still up. Still climbing. Now at five thousand likes.
My finger hovers over Marco’s contact. I should tell him. Right now. Get ahead of it.
But I know what happens if I do.
He’ll call Elena. Elena will escalate. Filepe will start documenting everything. And within an hour, this parent will be dealing with the full force of Fiore Hospitality Group’s legal apparatus.
Which might be deserved.
But also might be overkill.
My phone buzzes. Luis in the security chat:Added Instagram post to monitoring queue. Flagged for takedown tracking. Filepe notified.
So they know. Of course they know.
Already.
That means Marco knows by now, too.
It must be what, all of five minutes since the call?
My door opens. I look up.
Marco’s standing in the hallway. His expression is carefully neutral but I can see the tension in his jaw.
“When were you going to tell me?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.
