Jake finally introduces his girlfriend to his parents, only to discover that his father knows her. Or of her — revealing her secret life of dark restaurants and deals with businessmen…

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I’m not the guy who generally takes girls home to their parents. I need to be sure about them first. I’m 30, so of course, my mother just wants me to settle down.

But then I met Jess, and suddenly I wanted to take her home immediately. I wanted my mother to meet her. And Jess also wanted my family to like her.

A couple hugging | Source: Unsplash

A couple hugging | Source: Unsplash

“Jake, I need them to accept me, you know?” she said while cutting up fruit for us. “I’m one of those girls, where if I don’t feel welcome, I’m probably going to end the relationship.”

I believed her. Jess was a force of nature — as compassionate as she was, she was independent and took nothing other than respect from people.

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Growing up in the lap of luxury, I thought I had seen it all — the good, the bad, and the morally ambiguous. My father was a successful businessman, and my mother was a stylish woman who took no nonsense while making sure her house was spotless.

A bowl of fruit | Source: Pexels

A bowl of fruit | Source: Pexels

But nothing prepared me for Jess. With her captivating presence and an uncanny ability to make everyone around her feel seen and heard, she was unlike anyone I’d ever met.

“It’s been six months, Jake,” Jess said, sitting across from me. “I think we need to do a dinner with your parents. Don’t you agree?”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll arrange it.”

My mother was beside herself.

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“What?” she shrieked through the phone. “You’re bringing a girl home! I’ll cook!”

It was going to be a long night.

The evening came, and Jess was stuck in her closet.

Clothes on a rack | Source: Pexels

Clothes on a rack | Source: Pexels

“I just want to be perfect,” she said, pulling another option to change into.

When we got to my parents’ house, Jess was perfect. She held conversations with both my parents, and she complimented my mother’s cooking with each course.

“I think it’s going well,” I whispered to her.

She squeezed my knee.

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Although everything was great, I did notice that my father kept looking at Jess. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was — but he continued to look at her throughout the dinner as though he knew her. Or knew something about her.

Dinnerware on a table | Source: Pexels

Dinnerware on a table | Source: Pexels

I couldn’t figure it out. But I also didn’t want to ask him about it at the table. I had to wait until dinner was over.

“I’m going to give Jess a tour of the gardens,” my mother said, pushing her chair back. “You’ll love how beautiful it is at night.”

Jess smiled at me and followed my mother as she led them outside.

An outdoor water feature at night | Source: Pexels

An outdoor water feature at night | Source: Pexels

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“Son,” my father said without hesitation. “I know her! I know Jess!”

“How?” I asked. I was glad that he had brought up the topic. I didn’t want to accuse my father of looking at my girlfriend throughout dinner.

He sighed and poured us a drink each.

“Not personally, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. “But I’ve seen her at the restaurant with different men.”

A man pouring alcohol | Source: Pexels

A man pouring alcohol | Source: Pexels

I knew all about the restaurant — it was where my father did business, with most of the businessmen in the area. It was where they wined and dined each other, each hoping to secure larger profits and benefits that would cover any shady behavior.

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“Jess would always be around when a big deal was about to go down,” he continued. “Like, she seemed pretty clued in. The guys love her, Jake.”

“And you thought what? That she was… what, exactly?” I asked.

The question hung in the air, a bitter pill coated in disbelief and fear.

A woman sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels

A woman sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels

“Not a ‘lady of the night’, for lack of a better term, son,” he clarified, his voice softer now, seeking to bridge the chasm of misunderstanding.

“It’s more nuanced than that. She has a gift, or rather, a skill. These men, they change after meeting her. They become more successful, more driven. And no, before you ask, it’s not about what you’re insinuating. It’s something else.”

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Jess, the woman whose soul I thought I knew as well as my own, constantly at my side, was a silent fortress guarding her secrets.

“I don’t know whether to believe you,” I said, sipping my drink.

A man drinking whiskey | Source: Pexels

A man drinking whiskey | Source: Pexels

“He’s right, Jake,” Jess said from the doorway. “I have been helping these men — for a fee, of course. But I’ve been using NLP techniques. It’s not manipulation, not really. It’s about empowerment, motivation. And ambition.”

“Oh, Jess. I think it’s time to start explaining,” my mother said from behind Jess.

“What’s NLP?” I asked, sitting back in my seat.

“It’s neuro-linguistic programming,” Jess muttered, taking a sip of her water. “It’s just about holding their hands and making them believe in something other than themselves. But using that to manipulate their success.”

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A woman drinking water | Source: Pexels

A woman drinking water | Source: Pexels

Something about her words struck a nerve inside me.

I turned to face her, searching her eyes for the Jess I knew. There was something different about her now. As she sat next to me, I looked at a different version of her.

If our lives were a fairytale, Jess would have turned into a siren and hummed her way through the rest of our lives.

“Have you been doing this to me, too?” I asked coldly.

Her hand found mine, a gesture of reassurance.

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

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“No, Jake. With you, it’s different. I wanted us to be real, to be authentic. I didn’t need to use any techniques or strategies with you.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the kind that weighs down words and makes the next steps unclear.

“I think we should call it a night,” my mother said. “But you two need to talk.”

A red taillight | Source: Pexels

A red taillight | Source: Pexels

I dropped Jess off at her apartment and went straight home. I had every intention of going home and drinking beer. The entire situation had left me feeling uneasy. I knew how I felt about Jess — it was clear to me. But at the same time, I was questioning how I had come to those feelings.

In the early hours of the morning, a text message from Jess lit up my phone.

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Can I see you tomorrow? Brunch on me.

Of course, I wanted to see her. I loved her. But I needed her to explain things to me.

“You seem to have a talent for what you do,” I said when we sat down to eat. “My father thinks that you’re quite impressive.”

Food on a table | Source: Pexels

Food on a table | Source: Pexels

The conversation that followed was difficult yet transformative. Jess’s backstory unfolded, a narrative of hardship and resilience that painted her actions in a different light.

“Look, Jake,” she said, dropping her fork onto her plate. “I’ve always been told that I’m persuasive. It’s nothing new to me. Now, you need to understand that I needed to help my family. I took an online course on the topic. My father told me that maybe if I learned how to use my talent to help people get what they wanted — that they would pay me.”

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“And they’ve been doing that?” I asked.

“Yes. That’s how I got in with businessmen. I used to do it in casinos — manipulate people into dealing more than they should. But if the odds were in their favor, they just needed a nudge. You know?”

A person using a laptop | Source: Pexels

A person using a laptop | Source: Pexels

“Right,” I said slowly, chewing on my food.

“But I see now that there’s a moral line that I may have crossed.”

I believed Jess. I didn’t know if she was just using her powers of persuasion on me, or if it was just good faith in the woman I loved. But I believed her.

“So, all those nights that you’ve been working…” I trailed off.

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“I was doing this,” she admitted.

We left our brunch spot feeling oddly as ease with each other. But another thought nagged at me — did my parents believe Jess? Or did they think that she was someone else entirely.

Exterior of a house | Source: Pexels

Exterior of a house | Source: Pexels

I left Jess at her sister’s house and went get myself some groceries for the week, wondering whether my parents would welcome Jess back into their home. As I was making small talk with the cashier, my father phoned.

“Jake, I have an idea,” my father said. “Bring Jess home this evening.”

Oh, boy, I wondered. What next?

I didn’t know if there was anything good to come off our meeting with my parents. But I fetched Jess, who was delighted by the thought of my family reaching out once again.

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“It’s a great thing, Jake,” she said in the car.

A supermarket | Source: Pexels

A supermarket | Source: Pexels

When we got to my parents’ house, the dining table was covered in desserts.

“Are we celebrating something?” I asked my mother as I kissed her head.

But my father took over.

Desserts on table | Source: Pexels

Desserts on table | Source: Pexels

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“What if there’s another way, Jess? A way to channel this skill of yours ethically, transparently? We could… we could start something. A consultancy, perhaps. We could use your abilities to genuinely help people. Businesses even, to communicate better, motivate their teams. And everything would be above board.”

Jess’s response was a mixture of shock and hope.

“You’d do that? For me?”

“It’s not just for you,” my mother chimed in, her voice warm but firm. “It’s the right thing to do. For everyone involved. And there won’t be any dark restaurant dealings.”

A group of people standing around a table | Source: Pexels

A group of people standing around a table | Source: Pexels

My parents continued to speak to Jess about proposals. And I left them to it. I helped myself to a slice of cake.

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I didn’t know what to do about my relationship. Sure, everything with Jess was great and all that. But at the same time, I didn’t know if I would constantly worry about whether she was using her training on me.

Would I be my own person or live in the shadow of who she wanted me to be.

A slice of cake | Source: Pexels

A slice of cake | Source: Pexels

What would you do?

Here’s another story for you | Mike faced every parent’s dilemma when his daughters crossed a line, exposing their stepsister’s secrets online. Find out how he navigated this family crisis, teaching a lesson they’d never forget.

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