That Thanksgiving night, my daughter and I decorated the table and waited for everyone to arrive. Then my sister sent a text: “I’m not feeling good, so I can’t make it this year.” But a second later, my daughter stared at her phone and said in a low voice, “Mom… you need to see this livestream.” On the screen, my sister and my parents were sitting in an upscale restaurant, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. My daughter shut off the screen and said, “Mom, let me handle this.”

I stood up, confused. It wasn’t my family arriving late. When I opened the door, a bewildered teenage delivery driver handed me a small, insulated bag. It wasn’t for me.

Ava stepped out of her room, took the bag from my hands, and gave the driver a five-dollar tip.

“What is that?” I asked, my voice hollow.

Ava smiled. It wasn’t a sweet smile. It was the smile of an apex predator. “That, Mom, is the appetizer. The main course is already on its way to downtown.”

Chapter 2: The 13-Year-Old’s Pitch

Ava walked back into the kitchen, tossing the small delivery bag onto the pristine marble counter. She held up an electronic receipt on her phone, her dark eyes flashing with a brilliant, vindictive light.

“I just ordered twenty of the cheapest, greasiest crunchy beef tacos from Taco Bell,” Ava announced smoothly, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. “I used the UberEats app. I paid extra for priority delivery directly to Table 4 in the VIP dining room at The Capital Grille.”

My jaw dropped so fast it practically hit the floor. “Ava, what on earth are you doing? You sent fast food to a Michelin-star steakhouse?”

“I didn’t just send food, Mom,” Ava said, tapping the screen to bring up the delivery instructions she had typed out. “I sent a message. I tipped the delivery driver fifty bucks in advance on the app, with the promise of another fifty if he followed my instructions to the letter. I told him he had to bypass the hostess, walk right up to their table, drop the greasy bags right on top of their fancy white tablecloths, and read the delivery note out loud. Really loud.”