I wish I could say I was overreacting.

That I had let paranoia take hold of me, that my suspicions were just the byproduct of stress and exhaustion.

But I wasn’t crazy.

I wasn’t imagining things.

And I would give anything, anything, to have been wrong.

My name is Malia, and I have a four-year-old daughter, Beverly.

My husband, Jonathan, and I both work full-time, which means Bev spends most weekdays at daycare.

Look, I feel guilty enough, and it wasn’t my choice, but it worked.

She was happy, we were happy, and life moved along.

“Bev is going to be fine, love,” Jonathan said one morning as we were packing her lunch.

“I know, and she’s thriving.

She’s making friends, and she’s enjoying herself.

But… I don’t want her to think that she’s being ignored or pushed away by us, you know?”

But then, a month ago, my mother-in-law, Cherise, made us an offer that seemed too generous to be true.

“Why don’t I take Beverly on Wednesdays?” she suggested over dinner, cutting into her chicken.

“It will give her a break from daycare and let us have some grandma-granddaughter bonding time.

It will be good!”

I hesitated.

“We can do it here so that she feels comfortable as well,” Cherise continued.

“I mean, I can take Bev to the park or for ice cream, too.

But we’ll be home for most of it.

Okay?”

Cherise and I had never been particularly close.

There was always a subtle disapproval in the way she spoke to me, a quiet undercurrent of something unspoken.

But this seemed… innocent.

It seemed like a kind gesture.

Like a grandmother who really just wanted to spend time with her grandchild.

Plus, it would save us a little money on daycare costs.

And if I’m being honest, a part of me was thrilled.

It meant that my child could be with family.

So, I agreed.

At first, everything seemed fine.

But then, Beverly started changing before my eyes.

It was little things at first.

“I only want to eat with Daddy, Grandma, and her friend today,” she said one evening, pushing away the dinner I’d made.

My daughter gave me a secretive smile as she took a sip of her juice.

“Who’s Grandma’s friend, sweetheart?” I frowned.

I assumed she meant a new daycare friend.

Until she started saying it more often.

Until she started withdrawing from me.

And then, one night, as I tucked her in, she whispered something that made my stomach clench.

“Mommy,” she asked, holding onto her stuffed unicorn, “why don’t you like our friend?”

I felt a prickle of unease.

“Who told you that?” I asked.

Bev hesitated, biting her lower lip.

Then, in a voice too rehearsed for a four-year-old, she opened her mouth.

“Our friend is part of the family, Mommy.

You just don’t see it yet.”

My hands clenched the bedsheets.

Something was happening, and I couldn’t understand it.

It was something I couldn’t see… yet.

So, I decided to ask Cherise about it the next time I saw her.

She came over on Saturday morning to have breakfast with us.

Jonathan and Bev were in the kitchen, making the last of the pancakes.

“Has Beverly made any new little friends lately?

At daycare or at the park or something?

She keeps talking about someone.”

Cherise barely looked up from her coffee.

“Oh, you know how kids are, Malia.

They’re always making up imaginary friends.

That’s probably the case.”

Cherise’s voice was smooth.

Too smooth.

I smiled, but my gut told me she was lying.

Call it intuition, call it mom instinct, but something was off.

That night, I made a decision that I never thought I’d make.

I installed a hidden camera in the living room.

I had one originally from when Beverly was a baby and we had a night nanny come in.

It was when Jonathan was working night shifts, and he wanted to keep an eye on the nanny while he was at work and while I slept.

I felt sick doing it, but I had to know what was going on.

The next Wednesday, I went to work as usual, leaving snacks in the fridge for Cherise and Bev.

I tried to concentrate and could only make it through one meeting with my mind intact.

By lunchtime, my hands were shaking from anxiety as I checked the footage on my phone.

At first, everything looked absolutely normal.

Bev was on the floor playing with her dolls, a bowl of cut fruit next to her.

Cherise lounged on the couch with a cup of tea, flipping through a book.

Then, Cherise checked her watch.

“Bev, sweetheart, are you ready?

Our friend will be here any minute now!”

My stomach dropped.

The friend was about to be revealed.

“Yes, Gran!

I love her!

Do you think she’ll play with my hair again?”

Her.

Cherise beamed at my daughter.

“If you ask her, I’m sure she will, little love.

And you remember, right?

About what we don’t tell Mommy?”

My daughter’s voice was impossibly sweet.

“Yes.

Not a word to Mom.”

I nearly dropped my phone onto the office tiles.

Then I heard it, the subtle ring of the doorbell.

Cherul stood, smoothing her clothes as she walked to the door.

My hands clenched as she opened it.

I didn’t know what I was about to see or who I was about to see.

But I felt sick to my stomach.

At least my wastepaper bin was right next to me if needed.

And then, I saw her.

The friend.

Jonathan’s ex-wife, Alexa, stepped inside my home.

The woman Jonathan had left years ago.

The woman I was told had moved to another state, claiming that she needed a fresh start with people she didn’t know.

And Beverly, my daughter, ran straight into her arms.

I don’t remember grabbing my keys.

I don’t remember how I got into the car.

All I know is one moment I was watching my world fall apart on the tiny screen, and the next, I was speeding home.

I threw the door open so hard that it banged against the wall.

There they all were.

Cherise, Jonathan’s ex-wife, and my daughter sitting together on the couch like some twisted little family reunion.

Alexa turned to me, startled.

“Oh.

Hi, Malia,” she said.

“I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

She said it casually, like she belonged here and I didn’t.

Like I was the intruder to their little playdate.

“What the hell is she doing here?” I asked, my voice sounding sharper than I intended.

Beverly looked up, confused.

“Mommy, why are you ruining the union?” she asked innocently.

Union?

Reunion?

I didn’t understand.

Cherise let out a sigh, sitting back like this was all so tiresome for her.

“You always were a bit slow on the uptake, Malia,” she said smoothly.

The conversation that followed shattered everything.

“What union?

Or reunion?

What is my child talking about?”

Alexa shifted awkwardly.

“Look, I…” she began.

“Shut up,” I snapped, and to my surprise, she did.

Cherise smirked.

“I think it’s time you actually accepted reality, Malia.

You’re not supposed to be here.

You were never really supposed to be here.

I think the only good thing to come from you is Bev.”

I felt my body go ice-cold.

Cherise leaned forward.

“Alexa is the one who was meant to be with Jonathan,” she said, gesturing to his ex.

“Not you, Malia.

My goodness, you were a mistake.

And if… or when, Jonathan realizes that, Beverly should already know where her real family is.

Alexa won’t just leave her at some daycare.

She’ll move to working from home, so that she can be with your daughter.”

Alexa wouldn’t meet my eyes.

She picked at the frills on the throw pillow she had on her lap.

“You manipulated my child, Cherise!” I shouted.

“You let her believe that I didn’t matter… that she didn’t matter?!

That we were both replaceable to each other!”

Cherise raised an eyebrow.

“Well, aren’t you?”

Something inside me snapped.

And if my child wasn’t sitting in the room, who knows what I would have done.

I turned to Alexa, who still hadn’t spoken.

“And you?

You went along with this?

Why?

You left Jonathan!

So, what the hell do you even want?”

She swallowed.

“I just… Cherise convinced me that Beverly should know me.

That maybe if Jonathan and I…”

I took a step closer.

“If you and Jonathan what?

Got back together?” I spat.

She didn’t answer.

I turned back to Cherise.

“I am done with you,” I said, my voice was steady now, deadly calm.

“You are never seeing Beverly again.”

Cherise smiled, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“My son will never allow that.”

I gave her a cold, hard smile.

“Oh, we’ll see.”

I scooped Beverly into my arms.

She didn’t fight me.

But she was confused.

And that broke me more than anything else.

As I sat in the car, holding my daughter close, I made a promise.

No one, absolutely no one, was going to take my daughter from me.

Not Cherise.

Not Alexa.

And if Jonathan wasn’t on my side when he found out?

Then not even him.

I took Bev for ice cream and explained the situation to her.

“Mom?

What happened?

Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, honey,” I said, 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?” she 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 I say about people who are not nice?”

“We stay away from them!” she said, smiling because she remembered.

Later, when we got home, neither Cherise nor Alexa were there.

But Jonathan was.

“Hi, baby,” he said to Bev, who jumped into his arms.

“Jonathan, we need to talk.”

We sent Bev to play with her toys while I told him everything.

I showed him the footage as extra proof.

He was pale and silent for a long time.

“She’s never seeing Beverly again.

Never.

I don’t care.”

Cherise tried to call.

She tried to defend herself.

I blocked her number.

Some people don’t deserve second chances.

And some people don’t deserve to be called family.