I wish I could say I was just overreacting. That my suspicions were nothing more than the stress of balancing work and motherhood. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t imagining things.
And I would give anything—anything at all—to have been wrong.
My name is Martha. I have a four-year-old daughter, Beverly, and a husband, Jason. Both of us work full-time, which means Bev spends most weekdays at daycare. It’s not ideal, but it works. She’s happy, we’re happy, and life moves forward.
One morning, as we packed Bev’s lunch, Jason said, “Bev is going to be fine, love. You know she’s thriving there.”
“I know, and I don’t mind her being at daycare,” I replied, trying to mask my guilt. “But I just don’t want her to think she’s being forgotten by us.”
A month ago, Cheryl, my mother-in-law, made a suggestion that seemed too good to be true.
“Why don’t I take Beverly on Wednesdays?” she offered one evening, cutting into her chicken. “It’ll give her a break from daycare, and we can have some bonding time. It’ll be good for her.”
A part of me, honestly, was relieved. It meant Beverly would be with family, and for that, I was grateful.
So, I agreed.
At first, everything seemed fine. Cheryl would come over, and Bev would go off with her happily. But then, something started to shift.
It was little things at first.
“I only want to eat with Daddy, Grandma, and her friend today,” Beverly said one night, turning her nose up at the dinner I made.
“Who’s Grandma’s friend, sweetheart?” I asked, frowning.
Beverly gave me a mysterious smile as she sipped her juice.
“Who’s your friend, Bev?” I pressed gently, but she just smiled and turned away.
Then, a few days later, she whispered something that chilled me to the core.
“Mommy,” she asked softly, clutching her stuffed unicorn, “why don’t you like our friend?”
I felt a chill run down my spine. My stomach twisted with unease.
“Who told you that, sweetie?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
Bev hesitated, biting her lip. And then, with a voice far too mature for a four-year-old, she said, “Our friend is part of the family, Mommy. You just don’t see it yet.”
My hands clenched around the bedsheets. Something was off. I didn’t know what it was yet, but I felt it deep in my gut.
The next time I saw Cheryl, I decided to ask about it. She came over on a Saturday morning for breakfast. Jason and Bev were in the kitchen, finishing up pancakes.
“Has Beverly made any new friends?” I asked casually, trying to sound nonchalant. “She’s been talking about someone a lot lately.”
Cheryl didn’t even look up from her coffee as she answered, “Oh, you know how kids are. Always making up imaginary friends. Nothing to worry about.”
Her voice was too smooth, too practiced. I smiled, but something felt wrong. It felt like she was lying.
That night, I made a decision I never thought I’d have to make.
I installed a hidden camera. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to know. The camera had been installed when Beverly was a baby, back when we had a night nanny, and Jason worked late shifts. But when Bev grew older, we had removed it. Now, it was time to put it back.
The next Wednesday, I left for work, leaving Cheryl and Bev snacks in the fridge. My mind raced as I tried to focus during my meetings.
By lunch, I was shaking as I checked the footage on my phone. At first, everything seemed normal. Beverly was playing with her dolls on the floor, a bowl of cut fruit beside her. Cheryl was lounging on the couch, flipping through a book.
But then Cheryl checked her watch.
“Bev, sweetheart, are you ready?” Cheryl asked with a smile. “Our friend will be here any minute now!”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Yes, Gran! I love her! Do you think she’ll play with my hair again?” Beverly’s voice was full of excitement.
Cheryl beamed. “If you ask her, I’m sure she will, little love. And remember, what don’t we tell Mommy?”
Bev’s voice, impossibly sweet, replied, “Not a word to Mom.”
I felt sick to my stomach. My fingers were trembling as I watched, my head spinning.
And then, I saw it. The doorbell rang. Cheryl stood, smoothing her clothes as she walked to the door. I couldn’t breathe. What was happening?
Then, the door opened.
And there she was.
Jason’s ex-wife, Alexa. The woman Jason had left years ago. The woman I was told had moved to another state. The woman I was told was no longer in Jason’s life.
And Beverly ran straight into her arms.
I don’t remember grabbing my keys. I don’t remember how I got to the car. All I know is one moment I was watching my world crumble on the tiny screen, and the next, I was speeding home.
I threw open the door so hard it slammed against the wall.
And there they were. Cheryl, Alexa, and my daughter, sitting together on the couch like it was all perfectly normal.
Alexa looked up, surprised. “Oh. Hi, Martha,” she said nonchalantly. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
“What the hell is she doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharp and shaky with anger.
Beverly looked up, her face confused. “Mommy, why are you ruining the union?” she asked innocently.
Union? I didn’t understand.
Cheryl sighed and leaned back on the couch, as though she were bored by the entire situation. “You always were a bit slow on the uptake, Martha,” she said smoothly.
I was reeling. “What union? What reunion? What is my child talking about?”
Alexa shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I…” she began.
“Shut up,” I snapped, and to my surprise, she did.
Cheryl smiled a sly smile. “It’s time to accept reality, Martha. You were never really meant to be here. I think the only good thing to come from you is Beverly.”
I felt a cold chill run through me.
Cheryl leaned forward, her eyes cold. “Alexa is the one who was meant to be with Jason. Not you. You were a mistake. And when Jason figures that out, Beverly will already know where her real family is.”
Alexa wouldn’t meet my eyes. She stared at the throw pillow on her lap, picking at the fabric.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You manipulated my child, Cheryl!” I shouted. “You let her believe I didn’t matter… that she didn’t matter?”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you?”
Something inside me snapped. If Beverly weren’t in the room, I might have lost control entirely.
I turned to Alexa. “And you? You went along with this? Why? You left Jason! What do you want from him now?”
Alexa swallowed. “Cheryl convinced me Beverly should know me. Maybe if Jason and I…”
I took a step forward. “If you and Jason what? Got back together?” I spat.
She didn’t answer.
I turned to Cheryl, my voice icy now. “I’m done with you. You will never see Beverly again.”
Cheryl smirked. “My son will never allow that.”
I returned her smile, cold and unflinching. “Oh, we’ll see.”
I scooped Beverly up into my arms. She didn’t fight me, but her eyes were confused, and that broke me in ways I couldn’t explain.
In the car, as I held her 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 didn’t stand by me when he found out? Then not even him.
We went for ice cream, and I told Beverly the truth in simple terms. “Mom? What happened? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, honey,” I said softly, watching her pick at her ice cream. “Grandma did the wrong thing. She lied to you and me. And she was very naughty. We’re not going to see her again.”
“And Aunty Alexa?” Beverly asked.
“We’re not going to see her either. She hurt Daddy a long time ago, and… she’s not a nice person. And what do we say about people who aren’t nice?”
“We stay away from them!” she said with a smile, recalling our rule.
When we got home, neither Cheryl nor Alexa was there. But Jason was.
“Hi, baby,” he said to Beverly, who jumped into his arms.
“Jason, we need to talk,” I said quietly.
We sent Beverly off to play, and I showed Jason the footage. He sat there, pale and silent for what felt like forever.
Finally, he spoke. “She’s never seeing Beverly again. Never. I don’t care.”
Cheryl tried calling, defending herself, but I blocked her number.
Some people don’t deserve second chances.
And some people don’t deserve to be called family.