I had always prided myself on being a good mother, though I wasn’t perfect. Some mornings, the pancakes were a little too crispy around the edges, but everyone had something warm on their plates. As for the laundry, well, it was a flexible schedule—if you needed something clean, you’d better remind me before the last pair of socks disappeared. But I loved my kids and my life, even when it felt overwhelming.
Oliver worked late most nights, so it was just me, managing dinner, bath time, and bedtime stories. And honestly? I didn’t mind. I liked it—most of the time.
One particular evening, after I had wrestled the kids into bed—one stuffed animal rescue mission and two water refills later—I walked into the kitchen, ready to collapse. Oliver was already there, sitting at the counter, his laptop open in front of him with an excited look on his face.
“Sweetheart,” he said, grinning like a kid who had just pulled off the best surprise ever. “I have a present for you!”
I eyed him warily. The last time he’d said that, I ended up with a robotic vacuum that beeped at me every time I left socks on the floor.
He slid the laptop toward me. “Look.”
I leaned in and my breath caught. On the screen was an enrollment page for a professional pastry course I had dreamed about for years.
“Oliver… This is amazing.”
“I knew you’d love it!” he beamed.
I did love it. I really did. But there was one glaring problem.
“When would I have time for this? I barely have time to sit down.
“Well, that’s where my second surprise comes in. Mom is coming to stay with us. She’ll help with the kids so you can focus on yourself a little more.”
“Your mom? Living here?”
“It’s just for a little while,” he assured me quickly. “She really wants to help, and it’ll make things easier for you.”
Help wasn’t a bad thing, right? In theory, having another adult around should make things smoother. But the reality of it?
There were things I knew about Marian that made my stomach twist at the thought of sharing a roof with her. Still, I swallowed, pushing the uneasy feeling aside. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe this would be… good. Or maybe I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life.
On the day Marian arrived, I tried to make everything perfect. The kids had cleaned their rooms—well, mostly. I had to remind them five times, and I still found a lumpy blanket on Theo’s bed hiding an entire toy civilization. But it was good enough.
The smell of cherry pie filled the kitchen. I set it on the counter to cool, smoothing my apron. It was my signature dessert, the one everyone raved about. Even Marian. Maybe this would help set a positive tone.
A car engine rumbled outside. She had arrived.
I wiped my hands on my apron and stepped onto the porch, forcing a welcoming smile. But the moment I saw them…
Marian stepped out first, looking as put-together as ever. But my eyes weren’t on her. They were on the man beside her.
Greg.
“Kayla, meet Greg, my love!” Marian announced cheerfully.
No. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.
“Your… love?” I forced out, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Yes, darling! I couldn’t leave him behind! He’s helpless without me!” she said.
Helpless. Right.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I couldn’t let it show—not yet.
Oliver stepped outside, glanced at Greg and Marian, and I saw the shift from surprise to discomfort in his eyes. But as usual, he was polite, always trying to keep the peace.
“I suppose… it’s fine if you both stay for a while,” he said.
Greg flashed a toothy grin. “Appreciate it, man.”
Marian beamed. “Oh, this will be wonderful!”
I didn’t share her enthusiasm. Something felt off.
Greg played ball with the boys in the backyard, laughing too loudly, acting too at ease. Meanwhile, I set the table with Marian, who hummed happily.
“Now our family is complete!” she declared, pouring herself a cup of tea.
Let’s see.
Later that night, I padded downstairs, craving a glass of warm water to settle my nerves. As I passed the guest room, a sliver of light spilled into the hallway. I was about to turn away when I heard it.
“I can’t stand kids!” Greg’s voice was hushed but sharp as a knife.
I froze.
“Oh, sweetheart. Just be nice,” Marian murmured.
“Be nice?!” Greg hissed. “I am tired of playing football with those little monsters!”
Marian chuckled softly. “Oliver would never throw us out. And Kayla won’t let him. Right, dear?”
My pulse pounded in my ears.
“What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I stepped into the doorway.
Marian and Greg snapped their heads toward me, startled. Marian’s face immediately smoothed into an infuriatingly smug expression.
“You have to leave,” I said, my voice firm.
Marian sighed, tilting her head as if I were an overreacting child.
“Oh, Kayla, always so righteous. But if you make us leave, I’ll have no choice but to tell Oliver how you helped his father escape from his own wife.”
The floor seemed to shift beneath me.
“You… how do you know about that?”
Her smile widened. “Oh, sweetheart, I know many things.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came. She had me. I was trapped.
The following days were pure hell.
From the moment Oliver left for work, Marian and Greg acted like they were on an all-inclusive vacation—except I was the staff.
“Kayla, bring me some coffee,” Marian called out cheerfully from the couch, eyes glued to the TV as if she had been born there.
