While away on a short work trip, I checked the baby monitor before bed—expecting to see my toddler asleep—but instead saw a woman I didn’t recognize tucking him in, kissing his forehead like she belonged there. My husband, Logan, wasn’t even home. When confronted, he hung up. My brother rushed to the house and overheard the woman telling Logan, “When you divorce your wife, Ben will be my son too.” That moment shattered everything. I flew home the next morning, filed for divorce, and won full custody. Logan begged for forgiveness, but it was too late—I couldn’t trust him anymore, not with our son.

Weeks later, I discovered the woman—Claire—was a local stylist. So, I booked an appointment under a fake name. I let her play dress-up, smiling politely, until I showed her a screenshot of her standing over my son’s crib. Her face drained of color. I handed her a therapist’s card for “delusional attachment issues” and walked out calmly. These days, it’s just me and Ben. Logan still calls. But I sleep soundly now—with my son safe beside me, and the baby monitor quietly glowing.