Bella looks on her dad’s iPad, and finds something surprising

Bella waited until his footsteps faded before sliding off her stool with exaggerated nonchalance. "Grab me the iPad?" She jerked her chin toward the charging dock by the fruit bowl—James' designated spot for his devices. "Need to Facetime Gavin."

I tossed it to her without looking, too busy watching the hallway where James had disappeared. The screen lit up under Bella's fingers, casting blue shadows across her face as she tapped absently. Then froze. "What the *fuck*..."

Her whisper cracked like a whip. I turned just in time to see her thumb hovering over an open browser tab—gold lettering glowing against black: *SugarBabeConnect.com*. A grid of glossed lips and coy smiles stared back, profiles scrolling endlessly beneath a search bar filled with descriptors: *18-25, student, petite, brunette.*

Bella’s fingers trembled as she swiped left—revealing her Dad’s logged-in account, his half-written message draft to a blonde in a schoolgirl skirt: *Prefer them tight and teachable.* Her choked gasp mirrored the icy dread slithering down my spine. The time stamp glowed—2:47 a.m., right around 5 minutes after the moment my bedroom door had creaked under his weight.

"Christ." Bella shoved the tablet away like it burned, her laugh brittle as shattered glass. "Guess I *did* say he needed to get laid." She flicked her cereal spoon so hard it clattered into the sink, milk splattering the stainless steel. "Whatever. It’s just messages. Everyone has... fantasies."

The **** casualness of her voice didn’t match the white-knuckle grip she had on the counter’s edge. I watched a drop of coffee tremble on the rim of my mug—my own pulse thudding in sync with the rhythmic *tap tap tap* of Bella’s nail against marble. Her gaze darted to the hallway, then back to me, pupils blown wide with something between horror and fascination. "I mean, Mum hasn’t touched him in like a *year*. Probably just..." She swallowed hard. "Blowing off steam."

The lie hung between us, sour as curdled milk. My fingers itched to snatch the tablet, to trace the exact path his eyes had taken last night—from my staged moans to those pixelated girls with their practiced pouts. Instead, I stretched across the island, plucking a banana from the fruit bowl with exaggerated nonchalance. "Everyone needs an outlet," I murmured, peeling it slowly. The scent of overripe fruit clung to my fingers as Bella’s phone buzzed—Gavin’s name flashing across the screen. A diversion. A gift.

Her attention snapped to the text, shoulders loosening as she typed a reply. I edged closer to the abandoned tablet, angling my body to shield the screen as my thumb swiped left. James’ profile photo glared back—a cropped headshot from Sarah’s birthday dinner, his smile stiff under the *SilverDaddy87* username. My stomach lurched. Silver. Like the streaks at his temples when he’d leaned over me in the garden, sunlight catching the threads as his hands trembled against my sunscreen-slick skin.