The Christmas Betrayal
I gripped the prickly branches of our old Christmas tree, trying not to slip as I dragged it down the narrow attic stairs. My arms burned with the effort, but I kept telling myself — this Christmas has to feel special for Matthew.
The house felt so quiet without Frank. It used to be full of his big laugh and the smell of cinnamon coffee brewing in the kitchen. Now, every step I took echoed too loudly.
Frank was gone. This was our first Christmas without him. Everything felt empty — except for Matthew’s belief in the magic of Christmas. He deserved a bit of magic, especially after all we’d been through.
I lowered the tree into the living room and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Okay, big guy,” I whispered to myself. “You can do this.”
Matthew is only seven, but his eyes still light up like fairy lights every December. Frank loved that. He would have wanted me to make Christmas feel bright for him, even if my heart wasn’t in it.
The last few months had been a battlefield. Frank’s mom, Rachel, kept saying she should raise Matthew instead of me. After so many arguments, I thought I’d finally made her back off. But the way she looked at me — like I was about to break — made my skin crawl.
I opened a dusty box of decorations and found our Elf on the Shelf. My fingers brushed the tiny red suit and floppy hat. I could almost hear Matthew’s giggles when he’d find it every morning, perched somewhere silly. Frank always set it up to do something naughty — tiny marshmallows scattered across the counter, or the elf balanced on a bookshelf.
I missed that. I missed him.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Mom:
Mom: How are you two holding up?
Me: It’s a bit hard, but we’re okay.
I barely had time to put my phone down when the doorbell rang. My stomach flipped. Who could that be?
When I opened the door, I nearly dropped right there on the doormat. It was Rachel. Frank’s mom. She had a suitcase in her hand and a bright, fake smile on her face.
“What… what are you doing here?” I blurted.
Rachel didn’t miss a beat. She stepped inside like she owned the place. “I thought I’d keep you company for Christmas,” she said sweetly. “Seems like you could use the help.”
I crossed my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re fine. We don’t need company.”
She looked around the living room with a smug grin. “Are you really fine? After Frank passed, you’ve looked awful, Sophie. I can’t imagine Matthew spending Christmas in such a miserable house.”
My blood boiled. “You don’t get to say that. Matthew and I are fine. I’m doing my best.”
Rachel just smiled like a snake. “I’m not here to judge, dear. Just to support you.”
She walked into the living room, eyeing the tree and the little elf in my hands. She picked it up and turned it over in her fingers. “This elf is so cute. He watches everything, doesn’t he?”
Her voice made my skin crawl. I laughed it off, but deep down, something felt wrong.
The next day, Matthew came home from school and his whole face lit up when he saw the tree and the lights. For a moment, I felt like everything might be okay.
But then Rachel swooped in.
“Your mom lets you decorate like that? No wonder it’s a mess.”
I clenched my fists. Just a few more days, I told myself. Just get through Christmas.
But it got worse. She criticized everything — where Matthew put his coat, what he ate, even how I made hot cocoa.
Two mornings later, there was another knock at the door. I opened it, bleary-eyed. This time, it was my mom, Liz, standing there with her overnight bag.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” I asked.
She brushed past me. “I decided to come keep you company.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You’re not the only one.”
Mom frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Rachel showed up too,” I said.
Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Rachel? Good. You’ll need someone on your side.”
From then on, it was like living in a war zone. Rachel nagged me about being a mother. “Matthew needs structure. Frank would be ashamed if he saw this.” Meanwhile, Mom sat on the sofa and gave me sad eyes. “Sweetheart, you’re not coping well. You can’t do this alone.”
Their voices kept spinning in my head. I wanted to scream.
One night, desperate to get away, I started tidying the living room. My eyes fell on the Elf on the Shelf. Its eyes looked… strange. Too real.
I picked it up. My hand trembled as I saw a small slit on its back. I dug my nail in and found a hidden flash drive.
My heart stopped.
I raced to my bedroom, locked the door, and plugged it into my laptop. Video after video popped up on my screen. Footage of me crying, the messy house, me snapping at Matthew, me just surviving.
Someone was spying on me. Someone wanted proof I wasn’t a good mom. There was only one person who’d do that.
I stormed to Rachel’s room and slammed the door open. “What is this?!” I shouted, holding up the flash drive.
Rachel didn’t even flinch. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb!” I yelled. “The elf was a camera! You’re trying to prove I’m unfit to take Matthew away from me!”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “A hidden camera? That’s insane. I didn’t do that. If that’s true, we should call the police!”
“Don’t lie to me!” I screamed. “You’ve wanted him since Frank died!”
Rachel threw her hands up. “Yes, I thought about it! But I didn’t do this. I’d never hurt you like that!”
I didn’t believe her. “Get out. Get out of my house. Now.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m not leaving. If you want me gone, call the cops.”
I slammed her door shut and ran back to my room. I collapsed on my bed, sobbing into my pillow. How could she do this to me?
Then I heard Mom’s voice behind me. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
I sat up, tears streaming down my face. “Rachel’s trying to take Matthew. She planted a camera in the elf.”
Mom’s eyes darted away — and something slipped out of her bag. I grabbed it. A receipt. For a tiny surveillance camera.
My mouth went dry. “What… is this?” I asked, holding it up.
Mom tried to grab it. “Let me explain—”
I pulled it away. “So it was you? You put the camera in the elf?”
Mom’s shoulders slumped. “I had to, Sophie! You’re falling apart. You can’t handle this alone. I needed proof so Matthew could come stay with me. Just until you’re stronger.”
I stared at her like she was a stranger. “Did you ever even ask me? Did you think about what Matthew wants? I’m his mother!”
Mom’s voice was cold. “It’s for the best.”
I shook with anger. “Get out. Get out of my house. Now.”
She blinked. “Sophie, don’t do this—”
“GET. OUT!” I roared.
She packed up quickly, eyes darting everywhere but at me. She left without another word.
A few minutes later, Matthew poked his head into my room. “Where’s Grandma Liz going?”
I wiped my eyes. “She had to go home, honey.”
He climbed into my lap and hugged me tight. “Good. She told me I should come live with her. But I want to stay here. With you.”
I held him so close, feeling his little heartbeat against mine. “No one is ever taking you away from me. Ever.”
Over his shoulder, I saw Rachel standing in the kitchen doorway. Our eyes met. I whispered, “I’m sorry.” She just gave me a slow, unreadable nod.
I kissed the top of Matthew’s head. This was our life now — just the two of us. And no one, not even family, was ever going to break us apart again.
