I wish I could tell you that everything was just in my head. That maybe I was being paranoid, that I had let stress and exhaustion cloud my judgment. But I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t imagining things.
I wish I could say I was wrong. But, oh, how I wish I had been.
My name is Martha, and I have a beautiful four-year-old daughter named Beverly. My husband, Jason, and I both work full-time, which means Bev spends most of her weekdays at daycare. It wasn’t my ideal situation, but it worked for us. She was happy, we were happy, and life just kept moving.
One morning, as we were packing Beverly’s lunch, Jason noticed the worry on my face.
“Bev is going to be fine, love,” he reassured me, ruffling her hair.
“I know, she’s doing great at daycare, making friends. But…” I hesitated, not knowing how to say it. “I don’t want her to feel like we’re pushing her away. I just want her to know that we love her, that we’re here for her.”
And then, about a month ago, my mother-in-law Cheryl made an offer that seemed too good to be true. At least, at first.
“Why don’t I take Beverly on Wednesdays?” Cheryl suggested one evening, her fork clinking against her plate as she looked at me. “It’ll give her a break from daycare and we can have some grandma-granddaughter time. It’ll be good for both of you.”
Part of me was relieved. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted Bev to spend time with family, to feel connected to her roots. So, I agreed.
At first, everything seemed fine. Too fine, maybe.
But then, slowly, Beverly started changing.
It was small things at first. One evening, as I set dinner on the table, Bev refused to eat.
“I only want to eat with Daddy, Grandma, and her friend today,” she said, pushing away the meal I had made with love.
“Her friend?” I asked, confused. “Who’s Grandma’s friend, sweetheart?”
Bev smiled mysteriously, sipping her juice as if she knew something I didn’t.
“Who’s Grandma’s friend, sweetie?” I asked again, feeling that nagging doubt in my gut.
Bev shrugged, brushing me off like it was no big deal. But this wasn’t the first time she had mentioned this “friend.” And it didn’t stop there.
One night, as I tucked her into bed, she whispered something that made my stomach twist.
“Mommy,” she said softly, holding her stuffed unicorn, “why don’t you like our friend?”
My heart skipped a beat. I forced a smile, trying to stay calm.
“Who told you that, sweetie?” I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.
Bev hesitated, her little fingers tracing the edge of her blanket, and then she said something that sent chills down my spine.
“Our friend is part of the family, Mommy. You just don’t see it yet.”
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. What was happening? What did she mean by “part of the family”? This was more than I could handle on my own.
The next time Cheryl came over, I decided to confront her. She was sitting at the table, sipping coffee as Jason and Beverly cooked pancakes together in the kitchen.
“Has Beverly made any new friends?” I asked casually, trying to sound normal. “She keeps talking about someone, but I can’t figure out who.”
Cheryl didn’t even look up from her mug.
“Oh, you know how kids are, Martha,” she said, her voice smooth. “Always making up imaginary friends. Probably just that. Nothing to worry about.”
Her words sounded rehearsed, like she was hiding something. And deep down, I knew she was lying.
Call it intuition. Call it mom’s instinct. But something was off.
That night, I did something I never thought I would do.
I installed a hidden camera in the living room. It was one of the old cameras we used when Beverly was younger and we had a night nanny. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about it, but I had to know what was really going on when I wasn’t there.
The following Wednesday, I went to work as usual, leaving snacks in the fridge for Cheryl and Beverly. By lunchtime, my nerves were frayed. I couldn’t focus on anything. My hands trembled as I checked the footage on my phone.
At first, everything seemed normal. Beverly was on the floor, playing with her dolls, while Cheryl sat on the couch with a book, sipping tea. But then, Cheryl glanced at her watch and I heard her say something that made my blood run cold.
“Bev, sweetheart, are you ready? Our friend will be here any minute now!”
I froze. My stomach churned.
“Her?” I whispered to myself.
Bev’s voice rang out sweetly. “Yes, Gran! I love her! Do you think she’ll play with my hair again?”
Cheryl smiled at her, but there was something too knowing in her expression.
“If you ask her, I’m sure she will, little love,” Cheryl said. “And remember, we don’t tell Mommy about this, right?”
Bev nodded eagerly. “Yes. Not a word to Mom.”
I almost dropped my phone in shock. I was suffocating from the dread building in my chest.
Then I heard it—the sound of the doorbell.
I felt like I was holding my breath as Cheryl got up and walked to the door. The next few moments felt like an eternity. I didn’t know who or what I was about to see, but I knew it would change everything.
And then, there she was. The friend.
Jason’s ex-wife, Alexa. The woman Jason had left years ago. The woman who had supposedly moved out of state to start fresh.
And there, in front of me, was my daughter, running straight into Alexa’s arms like she was the most natural thing in the world.
I don’t remember how I got to the car. I don’t remember grabbing my keys. But I do remember slamming the door open the moment I got home.
There they were: Cheryl, Alexa, and my daughter, sitting together on the couch as if they were a family. It felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me.
Alexa turned to me, startled. “Oh, hi, Martha,” she said casually. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
She said it like she belonged there, like I was the outsider in my own home.
“What the hell is she doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharp with anger.
Bev looked up at me, confusion written all over her face. “Mommy, why are you ruining the union?” she asked innocently.
Union? I didn’t even know what she meant.
Cheryl sighed, almost bored with the whole situation. “You always were a bit slow on the uptake, Martha,” she said smoothly.
My heart was pounding as I demanded answers.
“What union? What reunion? What is my daughter talking about?” I asked, my voice trembling with rage.
Alexa shifted uneasily on the couch, not meeting my eyes.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” she began, but I wasn’t having it.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “Just shut up.”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward with a smirk that made my blood run cold.
“I think it’s time you accepted reality, Martha,” she said, her voice low. “You were never supposed to be here. You were never supposed to be with Jason. You were a mistake. The only good thing to come from it was Beverly.”
I felt like I had been slapped. I couldn’t breathe.
Cheryl kept going, as if she had all the answers. “Alexa is the one who was meant to be with Jason. Not you. And when Jason finally realizes that, Beverly will already know where her real family is. Alexa will be there for her, not some daycare.”
“Stop lying!” I shouted. “You manipulated my daughter, Cheryl! You let her believe that I didn’t matter, that she didn’t matter!”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you?”
That was it. Something snapped inside me. If my daughter hadn’t been there, I’m not sure what I would’ve done.
I turned to Alexa, who still hadn’t said a word. “And you?” I demanded. “Why? Why would you go along with this?”
Alexa swallowed. “Cheryl convinced me that Beverly should know me. That maybe… maybe if Jason and I…”
I stepped forward. “If you and Jason what? Got back together?” I spat, but she didn’t answer.
I turned to Cheryl, my resolve hardening. “I am done with you,” I said, my voice steady but filled with venom. “You’re never seeing Beverly again.”
Cheryl just smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “My son will never allow that.”
I gave her a cold, icy smile. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”
I scooped Beverly up into my arms. She didn’t fight me, but I could see the confusion in her eyes. And that broke my heart more than anything else.
As I drove away, holding my daughter close, I made a promise to myself.
No one. Absolutely no one. Was going to take my daughter from me.
Not Cheryl. Not Alexa. And if Jason wasn’t on my side when he found out? Then not even him.
We stopped for ice cream on the way home, and I explained everything to Beverly as best as I could.
“Mom? What happened? Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice small.
“Oh, no, honey,” I said, watching her carefully. “Grandma did the wrong thing. She lied to us both. She wasn’t nice. And we’re not going to see her again.”
“And Aunty Alexa?” Beverly asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“We’re not going to see her either,” I said, forcing a smile. “She hurt Daddy a long time ago, and she’s not a nice person. And do you remember what we say about people who are not nice?”
“We stay away from them!” Bev said, her face lighting up as she remembered.
When we got home, neither Cheryl nor Alexa were there, but Jason was. He looked at me, his face pale.
“Hi, baby,” he said to Beverly, who jumped into his arms.
“Jason, we need to talk,” I said, my voice tight.
I showed him the footage. His face turned white as he watched, silent for a long time.
“She’s never seeing Beverly again. Never. I don’t care,” he said, his voice cold and firm.
Cheryl tried to call, but I blocked her number. Some people don’t deserve second chances.
And some people… don’t deserve to be called family.
