“Has Jessi actually agreed to this?” Flynn asked.
Mom laughed again.
“We haven’t told her yet.”
Chloe giggled.
“Mom…”
“When we explain it, she’ll understand. She makes excellent money.”
Dad joined in.
“We gave Jessi everything growing up. She knows family comes first.”
Then Chloe casually revealed that she had already announced the move online. She had posted a picture of my building with the caption, “Finally starting our new chapter,” and everyone thought they had bought the place.
My mother sounded amused.
“Let them think whatever they want.”
For several seconds, I imagined walking into that room and confronting all of them, but instead, I took a breath and entered smiling.
“Merry Christmas, everyone.”
For the briefest moment, the entire table went quiet. Dinner continued as though I had heard nothing, with Chloe talking about furniture for her “new place” while Flynn bragged about another business opportunity.
Later, Chloe looked at me casually.
“Do you remember the exact length of your living room wall?”
“Not off the top of my head.”
“Too bad. I found this gorgeous sectional online.”
Mom kicked her beneath the table, and I pretended not to notice.
At 10:30, I excused myself and went into the bathroom. Months earlier, a real estate broker named Marcus had mentioned an institutional investor interested in buying three-bedroom units in my building, but I had always declined.
That night, I messaged him.
“Is your buyer still interested?”
His reply came almost immediately.
“Yes. He asked about your unit two days ago.”
“Offer?”
“If the title is clean, $680,000 cash. Quick closing.”
I stared at myself in the mirror, then typed my response.
“Tell him I accept.”
I washed my hands and returned to dinner. Across the table, Chloe was showing Mom a marble coffee table she wanted for “her new living room,” so I simply smiled.
They thought they were planning how to move into my apartment. They had no idea I had just agreed to sell it.
Part 2: I Let Them Plan a Move That Would Never Happen
For the next three weeks, Chloe planned her move into my apartment with astonishing enthusiasm. Every few days, another social media post appeared, announcing her excitement about decorating the new place, giving the kids their own bedrooms, and starting over.
“Decor shopping for the new place!”
“The kids will finally have their own bedrooms!”
“New beginnings.”
In one photo, Chloe stood outside the gate of my building, pointing toward the upper floors beneath the caption:
Home sweet home very soon.
Mom commented almost immediately.
You deserve it, sweetie.
I liked the post. That afternoon, Chloe called me.
“Did you see my pictures?”
“I did.”
“Isn’t your building gorgeous?”
“It really is.”
Then came a long silence. She was clearly waiting for me to mention the apartment, perhaps expecting me to say that Mom had explained everything and that we needed to discuss her move, but I said nothing.
