The Truth Behind the Lies
I wish I could say that I was just imagining things. That my mind was playing tricks on me because of stress, or that I had overreacted. But I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t just being paranoid. I saw what I saw, and nothing could take away the cold, hard truth.
My name is Martha. I have a four-year-old daughter, Beverly. My husband, Jason, and I both work full-time, so Bev spends most of her weekdays at daycare. We never liked it, but it was the only option we had, and it worked. She was happy, we were happy, and life carried on.
One morning, as we were packing Beverly’s lunch, Jason turned to me and said, “Bev is going to be fine, love. She’s thriving. She’s making friends, she’s enjoying herself. I don’t want you to worry so much.”
“I know,” I replied, but a little part of me still felt guilty. “I just… I don’t want her to think we’re pushing her away. I don’t want her to feel like she’s being ignored.”
That’s when my mother-in-law, Cheryl, made an offer that seemed too good to be true.
“Why don’t I take Beverly on Wednesdays?” Cheryl suggested, slicing her chicken with a smile. “It’ll give her a break from daycare, and she’ll have some quality bonding time with her grandma. It’ll be good for both of us!”
At first, I was excited. It meant Bev would spend time with family, and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about her being away from us for so long. But after a month, something started to feel off. It was the little things at first.
One evening, Beverly pushed away the dinner I made, and said, “I only want to eat with Daddy, Grandma, and her friend today.”
Her friend?
“Who’s Grandma’s friend, sweetie?” I asked, a frown tugging at my lips.
Bev gave me a secretive smile, took a sip of her juice, and said nothing more. But she kept mentioning it. It was like this “friend” was always there, hovering in the background.
Then, one night, as I tucked her into bed, she whispered something that made my stomach twist into knots.
“Mommy,” she said, clutching her stuffed unicorn, “why don’t you like our friend?”
I froze. “Who told you that?”
Bev hesitated for a second before speaking again, her voice almost too calm for a four-year-old. “Our friend is part of the family, Mommy. You just don’t see it yet.”
I was already tense, but hearing that made my heart race. Something was happening, and I didn’t know what. It was like a knot tightening in my chest.
The next Saturday, I decided to ask Cheryl about it. She came over for breakfast with us, and Jason and Bev were in the kitchen, making pancakes.
“Has Bev made any new friends lately?” I asked casually. “She keeps talking about someone. Is she talking about daycare or the park?”
Cheryl barely glanced up from her coffee. “Oh, you know how kids are, Martha. They make up imaginary friends all the time. That’s probably all this is.”
Her voice was smooth. Too smooth. My gut told me she was lying, but I didn’t have any proof.
That evening, I made a decision I never thought I would. I installed a hidden camera in the living room. It was one I’d used when Beverly was a baby, and we had a night nanny come over when Jason worked night shifts. I hadn’t thought of it in years, but now, I needed to know. I had to know what was going on when I wasn’t there.
The next Wednesday, I went to work like usual, leaving snacks in the fridge for Cheryl and Beverly. By lunchtime, I couldn’t stop the nerves twisting in my stomach, and I checked the footage on my phone.
At first, everything seemed fine. Beverly was on the floor, playing with her dolls. Cheryl was lounging on the couch, sipping tea and flipping through a book. It was just another normal Wednesday, or so it seemed. But then Cheryl looked at her watch and said, “Bev, sweetheart, are you ready? Our friend will be here any minute now!”
My heart skipped a beat. Our friend?
“Yes, Gran! I love her! Do you think she’ll play with my hair again?” Beverly’s voice was bright and eager.
“Of course she will, little love. And remember… what do we not tell Mommy?” Cheryl asked, her smile too wide.
Beverly giggled and said, “Not a word to Mom.”
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as the doorbell rang.
I couldn’t look away as Cheryl got up and walked to the door. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I prayed—no, begged—that I was wrong. But when the door opened, I saw her.
The “friend.”
Alexa.
Jason’s ex-wife.
The woman I thought had moved away years ago to start a new life. The woman I had been told was long gone. The woman my husband had left before he met me. And now, here she was. In my home. And Beverly? She ran straight into her arms.
I don’t remember grabbing my keys. I don’t remember getting into the car. All I knew was that I was watching my world crumble on a tiny screen, and then I was speeding home, my hands shaking uncontrollably on the wheel.
I burst through the door, not caring that it banged against the wall. There they were. Cheryl, Alexa, and my daughter. Sitting together on the couch, like some sick little family reunion.
Alexa turned to look at me, surprised. “Oh, hi, Martha. I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
She said it so casually, like she had every right to be there. Like I was the one interrupting their day.
“What the hell is she doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharp, more intense than I meant it to be.
Bev looked up at me, confused. “Mommy, why are you ruining the union?” she asked, her words innocent but strange.
Union? Reunion? What was she talking about?
Cheryl let out an exaggerated sigh. “You always were a bit slow on the uptake, Martha,” she said, sounding like this was all some game to her.
I felt my blood boil. “What union? What reunion? What is my daughter talking about?”
Alexa fidgeted, unsure of what to say.
“Look, I…” she began.
“Shut up,” I snapped. And surprisingly, she did.
Cheryl’s eyes glinted with a smug smile. “I think it’s time you accepted the truth, Martha. You were never meant to be here. You were never really part of the family. I think the only good thing to come from you is Beverly.”
I felt the icy weight of her words sink in.
Cheryl leaned forward, her voice cold. “Alexa was always meant to be with Jason, not you. You were a mistake. And when Jason realizes that, Beverly will know where her true family is. Alexa won’t leave her in daycare. She’ll be there for her, full-time.”
My head was spinning. My daughter was sitting right there, and I was about to lose it.
“You manipulated my child!” I shouted, barely keeping my voice steady. “You let her believe that I didn’t matter, that she didn’t matter? That we were replaceable to you?”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you?”
Something inside me snapped. If Beverly wasn’t in the room, I might’ve done something I’d regret. But I couldn’t focus on that right now. I turned to Alexa, who still hadn’t spoken.
“And you?” I demanded. “You went along with this? Why? You left Jason! What do you even want from us?”
Alexa hesitated. “Cheryl convinced me… that Beverly should know me. That maybe… if Jason and I…”
“If you and Jason what?” I interrupted. “Got back together?”
She didn’t answer.
I turned back to Cheryl. “I am done with you. You will never see Beverly again. Never. Do you hear me?”
Cheryl smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “My son will never allow that.”
I gave her a cold smile. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”
I scooped Beverly up into my arms. She didn’t fight me, but I could feel the confusion in her little body. And that broke me more than anything else.
As I held her close in the car, I made a promise to myself.
No one—no one—was going to take my daughter from me. Not Cheryl. Not Alexa. And if Jason didn’t stand by me when I told him? Then not even him.
We stopped for ice cream, and I explained everything to Bev, as best as I could.
“Mom? What happened? Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her big eyes filled with worry.
“Oh, no, honey,” I said, my heart heavy. “Grandma did something wrong. She lied to both of us. And she’s been very naughty. We’re not going to see her again.”
“And Aunty Alexa?” Bev asked, licking her cone.
“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!” Bev said, her smile returning.
When we got home, neither Cheryl nor Alexa were there, but Jason was.
“Hi, baby,” he said, smiling as Bev ran to him.
I didn’t waste any time. “Jason, we need to talk.”
I showed him the footage. I told him everything. For a long time, he was silent, his face pale as he processed everything.
“I’m done,” he said, his voice tight. “Cheryl is never seeing Beverly again. Never. I don’t care what she says.”
Cheryl tried calling. She tried defending herself, but I blocked her number. Some people didn’t deserve second chances.
And some people didn’t deserve to be called family.
