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My daughter, Jessie, just 22, put down her phone at dinner and dropped a bomb: "I want all my rent money back. Plus interest." I sat there, stunned. But then, above her head, words pulsed in a glowing rectangle only I could see: *"It's time. Your boomer parents are exploiting you! Demand financial freedom!"* That night was the start of a nightmare. The pop-ups raged, screaming about my 'theft' and Jessie's 'emotional labor,' twisting her into a demanding, entitled stranger. She threatened court, stole family heirlooms to sell them online, and manipulated her soft-hearted father, David, into handing her cash for 'self-improvement courses' that never existed. He, bless his naive heart, just wanted peace, even as Jessie shredded our family unit. I watched, helpless, as she descended into a greed I barely recognized, fueled by those insidious voices. Was this truly my daughter, or was some digital entity puppeteering her every cruel demand? Why was I the only one who saw the glowing commands pushing her further into depravity? My family was crumbling, my husband enabling, and my daughter turning into a monster, all thanks to these invisible whispers. The final straw came when, driven by those very pop-ups, Jessie destroyed her own life chasing a wealthy, deadbeat fiancé, leaving behind ruin and a neglected baby. That's when David and I decided: we'd stop fighting her battles. We'd save her son, but the daughter we knew was gone. We had to sever ties, for our own survival.
My daughter, Jessie, just 22, put down her phone at dinner and dropped a bomb: "I want all my rent money back. Plus interest." I sat there, stunned.
But then, above her head, words pulsed in a glowing rectangle only I could see: *"It's time. Your boomer parents are exploiting you! Demand financial freedom!"*
That night was the start of a nightmare. The pop-ups raged, screaming about my 'theft' and Jessie's 'emotional labor,' twisting her into a demanding, entitled stranger.
She threatened court, stole family heirlooms to sell them online, and manipulated her soft-hearted father, David, into handing her cash for 'self-improvement courses' that never existed.
He, bless his naive heart, just wanted peace, even as Jessie shredded our family unit. I watched, helpless, as she descended into a greed I barely recognized, fueled by those insidious voices.
Was this truly my daughter, or was some digital entity puppeteering her every cruel demand? Why was I the only one who saw the glowing commands pushing her further into depravity?
My family was crumbling, my husband enabling, and my daughter turning into a monster, all thanks to these invisible whispers.
The final straw came when, driven by those very pop-ups, Jessie destroyed her own life chasing a wealthy, deadbeat fiancé, leaving behind ruin and a neglected baby.
That's when David and I decided: we'd stop fighting her battles. We'd save her son, but the daughter we knew was gone. We had to sever ties, for our own survival.
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