Seven months pregnant, I agreed to house-sit for my brother Victor and his wife Anne while they went on vacation. One afternoon in the basement, I found three trash bags that shouldn’t have been there. Inside, I discovered voodoo dolls bearing my face, stained with dark substances, and ritual items meant to curse me and my unborn baby. Fear gripped me as Anne’s urgent warning echoed: “Don’t touch those bags—get out now!”

Panicked, I fled through the woods behind their mansion, clutching my swollen belly and gasping for breath. My husband Paul raced to pick me up, furious and terrified at Anne’s betrayal. When Victor and Anne returned, I confronted them in a café. Anne confessed she was jealous of my pregnancy and success, admitting she had been trying to curse me out of spite and envy.

The revelation shattered our family. Victor filed for divorce, unable to forgive Anne’s betrayal. I struggled with fear and paranoia, but Paul stayed by my side, supporting me through every checkup. Despite the trauma, our baby girl grew strong inside me, a symbol of hope amid the darkness.

Now, as I prepare for motherhood, I warn others: trust carefully, even family can hide dark secrets. Terror sometimes comes from those closest to you. But we will be okay. Our daughter’s kicks remind me every day — love and life will always find a way.