I stared at the numbers on my laptop screen, my stomach twisting into knots. My maternity leave was ending soon, and no matter how many times I recalculated, the cheapest daycare option was still too expensive.
“If only that place near the mall still had space,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temple.
Kelly, my mother-in-law, peered over my shoulder while gently swaying my baby, Lily, in her arms. “I still don’t understand why you want to waste money on daycare when I can watch this little angel for free,” she said, her voice dripping with confidence. “Those prices are ridiculous!”
I forced a tight-lipped smile, trying to mask my discomfort. Ever since I married Jordan, Kelly had made it clear that no woman would ever be good enough for her son. Her passive-aggressive comments about my cooking, my cleaning, even my parenting choices—it was exhausting. The last thing I wanted was to give her even more control over my life.
“I don’t know…” I hesitated.
Kelly tutted, shaking her head. “It’s simple, Lauren. Just say ‘yes.’”
I glanced at my beautiful daughter, sleeping peacefully in Kelly’s arms. My heart ached with the weight of the decision.
“I’ll think about it, Kelly,” I finally said.
Later that evening, I discussed it with Jordan, hoping he’d see my hesitation.
“I know you and my mom have had your differences,” he admitted. “But she raised me just fine, didn’t she? And it’s not like this has to be a permanent arrangement. You said that woman from the daycare center might contact you if a spot opens up, right?”
I nodded slowly. “Okay. We’ll have Kelly watch Lily for now.”
But I wasn’t going to agree without boundaries. “You have to make sure she understands that she needs to follow normal babysitting rules, okay? No guests, no extended phone calls, and definitely no afternoon glasses of wine. If I tell her, she’ll take it the wrong way.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Jordan assured me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
And for a little while, he was right.
For the first week, I got a steady stream of updates from Kelly—how well Lily ate, how she slept, even pictures of their little walks in the park. When I came home from work, the house was tidier than I left it, and sometimes, dinner was even waiting for me.
Maybe this arrangement could actually work.
“Thank you for everything this week,” I told Kelly that Friday, my gratitude genuine. “It’s been a huge weight off our shoulders.”
Kelly beamed, her eyes never leaving Lily’s face. “Being a grandmother is the greatest joy of my life. I should be thanking you.”
I was finally ready to put my doubts behind me—until the nanny cam incident.
One Thursday evening, I walked into the house and immediately sensed something was off. Kelly stood in the kitchen, wiping her hands on her pants, her smile too bright, her movements stiff.
“How was your day?” she asked, her voice unnaturally high-pitched.
“Fine…” I answered slowly. “Where’s Lily?”
“Napping in her crib.”
I studied her face. “Is everything okay?”
She sighed dramatically, reaching into her pocket. “Actually, there was a little accident today. I was cleaning around the shelves, and this fell.”
She handed me our nanny cam. The screen was shattered beyond repair.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I know these things are expensive.”
I turned the broken device over in my hands, my suspicion growing. Kelly had never been tech-savvy. In fact, she went out of her way to avoid handling any electronic devices. Why would she suddenly decide to clean around the camera?
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, keeping my voice even. “These things happen.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not upset?”
“Of course not. Accidents happen.”
That night, after Kelly had gone home and Jordan was asleep, I examined the camera. The screen was destroyed, but when I connected it to my laptop, I discovered the audio files were still intact.
My finger hovered over the most recent recording. Was I being paranoid? Maybe. But something in my gut told me Kelly had broken the nanny cam on purpose.
I clicked play.
At first, everything sounded normal. Kelly singing lullabies, Lily cooing, the creak of the rocking chair.
Then, the distinct sound of our front door opening.
“Hello?” Kelly’s voice called out.
“It’s just me,” a man responded.
I froze. That voice—I didn’t recognize it. Who was in my house?
“You sure she won’t find out?” the man asked, closer now.
Kelly laughed. “Relax. She’s at work. We have hours.”
The sound of footsteps. Cupboards opening. The clink of glasses.
“Wine?” Kelly offered.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
More laughter. Flirty giggles.
My blood ran cold. Kelly wasn’t just babysitting—she was using my home as her personal dating spot.
The next morning, I followed my usual routine, but instead of going to work, I parked down the street and waited. Thirty minutes later, I quietly made my way back to the house.
Laughter greeted me before I even opened the door. My pulse pounded as I turned the key and stepped inside.
There they were—Kelly and a silver-haired man, sitting at my dining table, two half-empty wine glasses between them.
And not a baby monitor in sight.
“Where’s Lily?” I demanded.
Kelly’s face drained of color. “Lauren! What are you doing here?”
The man shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, I should go—”
“No,” I said firmly. “Stay. I’d love to hear why my mother-in-law is drinking wine with a stranger while she’s supposed to be babysitting my daughter.”
Kelly scoffed. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic! Greg is a nice man from my church group.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Pope,” I snapped. “You ignored my daughter for a date.”
“She’s fine! She’s napping.”
But I could hear Lily fussing in the other room. I rushed in to find her diaper soaked through.
“Oh no!” Kelly called. “I wasn’t ignoring her—”
I held up the soaked diaper. “Really, Kelly? You’re done babysitting.”
That night, I told Jordan everything. He called Kelly on speakerphone.
“Mom, what were you thinking?” he demanded.
“She’s turning you against me!” Kelly shrieked.
“I heard the recording myself,” Jordan said. “You broke our trust.”
“I was lonely!”
“That’s not an excuse!”
The call ended, and Jordan called a locksmith.
“Just to be safe,” he said as the locks were changed.
Lying in bed that night, I squeezed Jordan’s hand. We’d figure out childcare again. But one thing was certain—no amount of free babysitting was worth our daughter’s safety or our peace of mind.
