On the Recliner

Your libido is firing on all cylinders but there's still a fatherly moral compass whispering in your ear. You choose to sit in the recliner and let the girls be alone on the sofa.

Almost as soon as you take your seat your text message alert vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out and see a new message waiting from the blackmailer:

"What just happened with Cindy?"

Interesting. You've gotten so used to the blackmailer somehow omnipotently knowing every detail of what's happening in the house you assumed they'd also know what went on outside.

You stand up. "Girls, we'll need to wait a couple of minutes. I need to answer these work texts. Why don't you go ahead and search Netflix for the movie you want to watch?"

You head back into the kitchen and look at the text message. This could be a test. The blackmailer could know. They also might not know but could find out the truth if you lie. Or they might never find out and you could use it to your advantage. Maybe you could come clean about the whole thing to Cindy and she could be a secret ally to escaping this ****?