Martha’s mother-in-law offered to babysit her daughter every Wednesday. At first, Martha thought it was just a kind gesture. But then her daughter, Bev, started acting weird.
Worried and looking for answers, Martha set up a hidden camera. What she saw broke her heart.
There were lies, manipulation, and betrayal—things she never expected from someone close.
She wishes she had been wrong. That it was just her being tired and overthinking. But it wasn’t.
“My name is Martha. I have a four-year-old daughter named Beverly.
My husband, Jason, and I both have full-time jobs, so Bev stays at daycare most of the week.
I already feel bad about that, but it was the only option we had—and it was working, or so I thought.”
Bev was happy, we were happy, and everything was going well.
“Bev’s doing great,” Jason told me one morning while we packed her lunch.
“I know,” I said. “She’s doing well, making friends, having fun.
I just don’t want her to feel like we’re ignoring her or pushing her aside.”
Then, about a month ago, my mother-in-law, Cheryl, made a surprising offer during dinner.
“Why don’t I take Beverly every Wednesday?” she said while cutting her chicken.
“It’ll give her a break from daycare and let us bond. It’ll be good for both of us!”
I hesitated.
Cheryl added, “We can stay here so she feels safe. I might take her to the park or for ice cream, but mostly we’ll stay home. Sound okay?”
Cheryl and I had never been that close. There was always a hint of disapproval in how she spoke to me. But this offer seemed genuine—like she just wanted time with her granddaughter.
Plus, it would help us save a bit on daycare.
To be honest, I was a little excited. Bev would be with family, not strangers.
So, I agreed.
At first, everything was normal.
But soon, Beverly started acting differently.
Small things at first.
One night at dinner she said, “I only want to eat with Daddy, Grandma, and her friend today,” and refused to eat the food I made.
She gave me a strange, secret smile as she sipped her juice.
“Who’s Grandma’s friend, sweetie?” I asked, confused.
I thought maybe she was talking about someone new from daycare.
But she kept mentioning this “friend” more and more.
Then she started pulling away from me.
One night, while I was tucking her into bed, she said something that made my stomach twist.
“Mommy,” she whispered, clutching her stuffed unicorn, “why don’t you like our friend?”
I felt uneasy.
“Who told you that?” I asked.
Bev paused, biting her lip.
Then she said something that sounded too practiced for a little kid:
“Our friend is part of the family, Mommy. You just don’t see it yet.”
I felt a chill. Something was definitely wrong.
Something was going on, and I didn’t understand it.
I couldn’t see it—but I knew it was there.
I decided to bring it up with Cheryl the next time I saw her.
She came over that Saturday morning for breakfast.
Jason and Bev were in the kitchen finishing pancakes.
I asked, “Has Beverly made any new friends lately?
At daycare or the park? She keeps talking about someone.”
Cheryl barely looked up from her coffee.
“Oh, you know kids,” she said smoothly.
“They always make up imaginary friends. That’s probably what it is.”
Her voice was too calm.
I smiled on the outside, but inside, I didn’t believe her.
Something felt wrong—like a mother’s instinct warning me.
That night, I made a choice I never thought I would.
I set up a hidden camera in the living room.
It was one we used before, back when Bev was a baby and we had a night nanny.
Back when Jason worked night shifts, we used the camera so he could watch the nanny while I slept.
Now, I felt awful setting it up again—but I needed answers.
That Wednesday, I left for work like normal. I put snacks in the fridge for Cheryl and Bev.
But I couldn’t focus—I barely made it through one meeting.
By lunchtime, my hands were shaking as I checked the camera footage on my phone.
At first, everything seemed totally normal.
Bev was on the floor playing with her dolls, eating fruit.
Cheryl was relaxing on the couch with tea and a book.
Then Cheryl looked at her watch.
“Bev, sweetheart, are you ready?
Our friend will be here any minute now!”
My stomach sank.
So the “friend” was real.
“Yes, Gran! I love her!
Do you think she’ll play with my hair again?”
Her.
Cheryl smiled warmly.
“If you ask her, I’m sure she will, sweetheart.
And you remember, right? What we don’t tell Mommy?”
Bev’s voice was soft and cheerful.
“Yes. Not a word to Mom.”
I nearly dropped my phone on the floor.
Then the doorbell rang.
Cheryl stood up, smoothed her clothes, and walked to the door.
My heart was pounding. I didn’t know what I was about to see—but I felt sick.
I kept the trash can beside me, just in case.
Then I saw her.
The “friend” was Jason’s ex-wife—Alexa.
The same woman he had left years ago.
The one who supposedly moved out of state to start over where no one knew her.
And my daughter, Beverly, ran straight into her arms.
I don’t even remember grabbing my keys or getting in the car.
One moment, I was watching it all happen on my phone. The next, I was racing home.
I threw the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
There they were—Cheryl, Alexa, and Beverly—sitting together on the couch like one big happy family.
Alexa looked surprised.
“Oh. Hi, Martha,” she said, like nothing was wrong.
Like I was the one interrupting.
I snapped, “What is she doing here?”
My voice was louder than I meant it to be.
Beverly looked at me, confused.
“Mommy, why are you ruining the union?” she asked sweetly.
Union?
Or did she mean reunion?
I didn’t understand what was going on.
Cheryl sighed like she was annoyed.
“You’ve always been a little slow, Martha,” she said calmly.
And then everything fell apart.
“What union? What is my daughter talking about?” I demanded.
Alexa looked uncomfortable and started, “Look, I…”
“Shut up,” I said sharply—and surprisingly, she did.
Cheryl just smiled.
“I think it’s time you finally accepted the truth, Martha.”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cheryl said.
“You were never meant to be part of this family. The only good thing you ever did was give us Beverly.”
I felt frozen.
Cheryl leaned in and pointed at Alexa.
“Alexa was always meant to be with Jason—not you, Martha.
You were a mistake.
And when Jason realizes that, Beverly should already feel like she belongs with her real family.”
She smiled.
“Alexa wouldn’t leave her in daycare. She’ll work from home so she can be with Beverly.”
Alexa looked down and avoided my eyes. She nervously played with the pillow on her lap.
“You used my daughter, Cheryl!” I yelled.
“You made her think I didn’t matter—that she didn’t matter to me either.
Like we could just be replaced!”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow calmly.
“Well… aren’t you?” she said.
That was it. I felt something break inside me.
If Beverly hadn’t been in the room, I don’t know what I would’ve done.
I looked at Alexa, who still hadn’t said much.
“And you? You went along with this?
Why? You left Jason!
So what do you even want now?”
She looked nervous.
“Cheryl just… convinced me that Beverly should know me.
That maybe if Jason and I…”
I stepped toward her.
“If you and Jason what?
Were going to get back together?” I snapped.
She didn’t say anything.
I turned back to Cheryl.
“I’m done with you,” I said, calm but firm.
“You’ll never see Beverly again.”
Cheryl smiled and pushed hair behind her ear.
“My son won’t let that happen,” she said.
“We’ll see,” I replied.
I picked Beverly up. She didn’t fight, but she looked confused— that hurt most of all.
Sitting in the car holding her close, I made myself a promise: No one would take my daughter—not Cheryl, not Alexa, and, if Jason chose their side, not even him.
I took Bev for ice cream and explained gently.
“Mom, what happened? Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“No, sweetie. Grandma lied to us and acted badly. We won’t see her anymore.”
“And Aunt Alexa?”
“We won’t see her either. She hurt Daddy long ago and isn’t a kind person. What do we do with people who aren’t nice?”
“We stay away from them!” she said, smiling because she remembered.
When we got home, Cheryl and Alexa were gone, but Jason was there.
“Hi, baby,” he greeted Bev, who ran into his arms.
“Jason, we need to talk,” I said.
We sent Bev to play, and I told him everything, showing him the camera footage as proof.
Jason looked pale and didn’t say anything for a while.
Then he said, “She’s never seeing Beverly again. Ever. I don’t care what it takes.”
Cheryl tried to call us.
She tried to explain and make excuses.
But I blocked her number.
Some people don’t deserve another chance.
And some people don’t deserve to be called family.