When we hired a new nanny, everything seemed perfect at first. I was relieved. Life with a toddler and work was exhausting, and I hoped she would make things easier. But soon, something strange caught my attention. The way she looked at my husband, Sean.
The way Sean acted around her—it all made me uneasy. At first, I thought, She’s after him. She wants to steal him from me. But I was wrong. What she really wanted was something much closer to my heart—and far more complicated.
No one had ever warned me that becoming a mother wasn’t just a new chapter—it was like adding a second full-time job on top of the first one, forever.
Before Brady came into my life, I was all about my career. I had worked hard, built something solid for myself. Even after I married Sean, I refused to quit my job, even though we could have easily managed without my salary. I wanted to stay independent, to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sean, and I thought I had done it perfectly.
But then, the hardest thing happened: I couldn’t become a mother.
For ten long years, Sean and I tried everything—every treatment, every hope. But it was no use. My eggs were failing; doctors said they were like those of a woman twice my age. We spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on IVF, on every possible treatment. Every single attempt failed.
Sean suggested surrogacy, but I just couldn’t accept it. I needed something more… real.
One day, at the hospital, I saw a tiny baby lying in a crib. A nurse told me his biological mother had given him up. Something inside me clicked like a switch. That night, I told Sean, “Let’s bring him home.” That’s how Brady came into our lives—my beloved boy.
Over the years, I had saved up sixteen weeks of vacation. I took all of them to care for Brady. It was hell. I was exhausted. I wasn’t myself anymore. Sleep was a stranger. The house was messy. Brady cried non-stop and only stopped when I drove him around in the car.
But slowly, we found a rhythm. I learned to sleep when he slept, to play soft music so he wouldn’t cry only in the car. Sean helped when he could. I started showering again—little things that felt like wins.
After those sixteen weeks, I hired a nanny to help me while I worked from home. Life got easier. But then Brady was almost three, and Carmen—the nanny—left us. And chaos returned.
Sure, Brady went to daycare, but only part of the day. I still needed someone to watch him afternoons and evenings while I worked.
I loved being a mother more than anything, but I also wanted to keep my independence and career. I promised Brady he would have the best of everything—a safe home, a good education, and a happy childhood.
So Sean and I began searching for a new nanny. We interviewed so many women I lost count. Some were too strict, others too careless. None felt right. Sean rejected every single one before I could even get comfortable.
I started feeling hopeless. Would we ever find someone trustworthy?
Then Emily arrived at our door. Young, fresh out of college, but with a warmth that immediately put me at ease. Brady loved her right away. Honestly, so did I.
Sean and I hired her that very day.
At first, everything was perfect. Brady adored Emily. I could see how gently she cared for him—like he was her own. Sean and I finally had time to breathe, to focus on work again. Life felt normal.
But then, small things started bothering me. Sean worked from home more after Emily arrived. He kept telling me, “You should go to the office to get some fresh air.”
I noticed the looks Sean and Emily shared—long, lingering glances. Sean was always on his phone, smiling at texts he never showed me.
At first, I tried to ignore it, but the puzzle pieces slowly came together.
Sean had been the one to find Emily and push to hire her, even though he’d rejected everyone else. Brady had become attached to Emily. He cried when she left. Was she trying to replace me? Take my family?
One morning, as I was getting ready for work, Emily was already playing with Brady in the nursery. I peeked in. They were making shapes out of playdough.
“I want to make a yellow elephant,” Brady said with a big smile.
Emily laughed softly. “Like the sun, right?” she said, molding the yellow dough. Brady nodded, reaching for the soft lump.
Then, out of nowhere, Brady looked at Emily and said casually, “Thanks, Mom.”
My heart stopped. He didn’t hesitate or correct himself. My own son had just called another woman “Mom.”
I felt the floor drop out beneath me. My legs went weak.
I forced a smile and said, “Emily, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Of course,” Emily replied, looking calm.
I took a deep breath. “Why is Brady calling you mom?”
Emily shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Kids say things like that sometimes. It’s just an accident.”
“But you didn’t correct him,” I said, struggling to keep calm.
“I… didn’t notice,” she said.
I stared at her and said, “Please be honest with me. Is there something going on between you and Sean? Do you want to take my husband? My child? My family?”
Emily’s eyes widened. “No, Regina! I would never think like that. Brady just said it by mistake, and if it happens again, I’ll correct him.”
I nodded slowly and left for work, but my mind was racing. Sean stayed home that day, and I felt like I was losing my mind, missing something huge right under my nose.
So I decided to be smart. I came home early—without telling anyone.
The house was quiet. Brady must have been napping. Then I heard noises from Sean’s office upstairs.
I crept up, careful not to make a sound, and swung the door open.
There they were—Sean and Emily. They weren’t doing anything wrong, but they were standing way too close for comfort. Far too close for a nanny and the child’s father.
“What is going on here?!” I shouted.
Sean looked surprised. “Regina, honey, you’re home early.”
I snapped, “Is that all you have to say?”
“It’s all Emily’s fault,” Sean blurted out. “She said she wants to be with me.”
Emily stayed silent, but I saw her nervousness, how her eyebrows shot up at Sean’s words.
I demanded, “Emily, say something!” But she couldn’t even look at me.
“Do you think I don’t see what’s going on? The glances, you and Sean working from home, the secret texts?” I accused.
Sean shook his head. “You’re misunderstanding everything. It’s all Emily. I love only you.”
“Give me your phone,” I said sharply.
“Regina…” Sean started.
“Give me your phone!” I yelled.
With shaky hands, Sean handed it over.
“Password?”
“4321,” he muttered.
I unlocked the phone, expecting messages from Emily, maybe photos. Instead, I found dating apps and conversations with dozens of women. The chat with Emily only had Sean’s messages—invites to dinners, drinks when I was out. Emily replied only about Brady, ignoring everything else.
I handed the phone back and said, “Emily, huh?”
Sean begged, “I can explain. I made a mistake.”
“Get out!” I screamed.
“Please,” he begged again.
“Get out! Now!” I yelled.
Sean stared for a moment, then stormed out. I slumped into the office chair, shaking but finally able to breathe. Emily just stood there, silent.
After a long pause, I asked, “Is Brady asleep?”
“Yes,” Emily whispered.
Then she spoke again, softer this time. “Please don’t fire me. I really need this job.”
“Who said I’m firing you?” I said coldly.
She smiled faintly, but Brady whimpered from the other room. She went to him quietly.
I sat there, staring at the wall. A hard divorce and custody battle were coming. I had a good friend who was a family law attorney—she would fight for me fiercely, but that didn’t make it easier.
That evening, as I prepared for the first hearing the next day, Emily sat beside me, feeding Brady.
Then, suddenly, I heard Brady say, “Mom, I want some water.”
He was looking at Emily.
Emily paused, then quickly said, “Brady, here’s your mom,” pointing at me. “And I’m Emily.”
“No! You’re my mom too!” Brady shouted.
I stared at Emily. “What is going on?”
Emily stammered, “I… I don’t know.”
Then Brady shouted, “Emily said I was in her tummy!”
My heart skipped. “What?!” I gasped.
Emily covered her face with her hands. “Y-yes. I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier. I didn’t know how. Please don’t kick me out—I just wanted to spend time with him.”
“You knew Brady was your son when you came here?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. That’s why I applied.”
“You gave him up, and now you came to take him?” I said, voice breaking.
“No! I wanted to see him, to know how he lived. I gave him up because I couldn’t give him a good life. You give him everything—love, safety. I see that. I just…” Emily’s voice trailed off.
“You had no right to do this,” I said firmly.
“I know. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Please leave,” I said.
She hesitated but then stood. At the door, she said softly, “Please let me see him sometimes,” and closed the door behind her.
I wanted to cry. Betrayal, divorce, and now the truth about my son’s biological mother.
I took Brady from his high chair and held him tight, rocking him slowly. I didn’t know who needed it more—him or me.
That night, I let Brady sleep with me, but sleep didn’t come. My mind spun with thoughts I couldn’t stop.
I looked at Brady, feeling all the love in the world. I was ready to lose everything but him.
Emily had given him up so he could have a better life. I was angry at her—and I understood her.
I grabbed my phone and opened the chat with Emily.
For a long time, I stared at the screen, unable to type a word. Finally, I wrote:
You can see Brady whenever you want, but remember, I’m his mom too.
Emily replied instantly:
I am incredibly grateful to you!
I switched off the phone and hugged Brady tighter. He was my whole world. And I would do anything for him.
