My Daughter-in-Law Said: “You Do Nothing, So Babysit My Kids While I Travel” – She Never Expected What I Did Next.

Uncovering the Master Plan and Preparing for Battle

The second day dawned differently. I already had my plan in motion.

At 6:00 in the morning, before the children woke up, Carol arrived with a shoebox.

“Here’s everything you asked for,”

she whispered, handing me the package.

“Three recorders the size of a button, a camera that looks like a smoke detector, and this.”

She pulled out a manila envelope.

“The credit reports you requested, Helen. Your daughter-in-law has debts of $30,000, all in Michael’s name.”

My heart sank. My poor son had no idea.

“And your sister from Child Protective Services—she’s coming tomorrow at 3:00 as a casual routine visit.”

“But Helen, you need concrete evidence if you want to do something legal.”

Evidence. That was exactly what I was going to get. When the children woke up, breakfast was on the table.

Pancakes shaped like animals, fruit cut into stars, chocolate milk. Not the horrible food their mother had told them I made.

Aiden was the first to come down, still in his wrinkled pajamas. He stopped short when he saw the table.

“What’s this?”

“Breakfast. Eat before it gets cold.”

He sat down suspiciously, took a bite, and for the first time, I saw something resembling a smile. But he immediately composed himself.

“It’s okay. I’ve had better.”

Chloe and Leo came down, drawn by the smell. Leo launched himself directly at the pancakes.

“They’re delicious, Grandma!”

“Shut up, stupid!”

Chloe elbowed him.

“We’re not supposed to—”

She trailed off.

“You’re not supposed to what, Chloe?”

“Nothing.”

After breakfast, I laid out my rules.

“If you want Wi-Fi, television, or any privileges, you have to earn them.”

“Aiden, your job is to wash the dishes. Chloe, make the beds. Leo, pick up the toys.”

“That’s child labor!”

Aiden shouted.

“No, my boy. Child labor is what I see on your mother’s phone.”

I took out my phone and showed a screenshot of Brooke’s Facebook page.

“Look, here’s your mom in Miami, on the beach with a man who is not your father.”

The three children gathered to see. In the photo, Brooke was in a bikini, hugging a man who was definitely not Michael.

The hashtag read #newlife #finallyfree.

“That’s Uncle Dominic,”

Leo said innocently.

“Mom’s friend who sometimes comes over when Dad is at work.”

Aiden quickly covered his mouth, but it was too late. The second piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place.

“Uncle Dominic?”

I asked casually.

“How often does Uncle Dominic come over?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about that,”

Aiden looked at me in a panic.

“Mom said if we told anyone about Uncle Dominic, Dad would get very sad and could die of sadness.”

My God, the level of manipulation was worse than I thought.

“Kids, your dad isn’t going to die of sadness. Adults don’t work like that.”

“But I need you to tell me the truth about everything. It’s important.”

“Why?”

Chloe crossed her arms.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I love you. And when you love someone, you protect them.”

“And right now, you need protection.”

It was Leo who broke first—the youngest, the most innocent, the one who wasn’t completely contaminated yet.

“Grandma, why does Mom say you’re mean if you make such yummy pancakes?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. What else does your mom say about me?”

“She says you’re poor and embarrassing, that’s why we can’t visit you.”

“She says your house smells bad and that you’re a bitter old woman who ruined Dad’s life.”

Every word was a stab, but I kept my composure. I discreetly installed the first recorder under the dining room table.

“And what do you think your house smells like?”

“Cinnamon and coffee,”

Chloe said in a low voice.

“It smells like home.”

That afternoon, while the kids were doing their assigned chores—protesting but doing them—I checked Aiden’s phone. I had forgotten that kids these days save everything to the cloud.

With a little patience, I accessed his Google account. What I found chilled my blood.

WhatsApp conversations between Brooke and this Dominic. They weren’t just lovers; they were planning something much worse.

“I have almost everything ready,”

Brooke wrote.

“Michael signed the papers without reading, as always. The house is already in my name.”

“And the brats?”

Dominic replied.

“I’ll leave them with the old woman as soon as he gives me the divorce.”

“Besides, Michael works so much he barely sees them. He won’t be able to ask for custody.”

“But we need more money to move to Miami for good.”

“The old woman has a house. It’s worth at least 200,000. When she dies, Michael inherits, and as his wife, half is mine.”

“Or was mine. We’ll see how we can get all of it.”

I kept reading. Brooke had taken out three credit cards in Michael’s name.

She had sold the car that was in his name and told him it had been stolen. She had even tried to take out a loan using my house as collateral but needed my signature.

That’s why the monthly trips—they weren’t for work. They were to meet Dominic in different cities.

They had been to Cancun, Puerto Vallarta, Playa del Carmen—all paid for with the money Michael was killing himself to earn. I took pictures of everything: every message, every photo, every piece of evidence.

My friend Carol was right: I needed to document everything. That night during dinner, I decided to test the children.

“What would you like to do tomorrow?”

“Go home,”

Aiden answered automatically.

“To which house? Your dad’s house or Uncle Dominic’s house?”

Chloe’s fork clattered onto her plate.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Chloe, sweetheart, I know it’s hard. But I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Does Uncle Dominic live with you?”

“No. Well, sometimes when Dad travels for work, he stays to take care of us in the guest room.”

Leo let out a nervous giggle.

“No, Grandma. He sleeps in Mom and Dad’s room and he doesn’t let us in. And they make weird noises.”

Aiden stood up from the table, furious.

“Shut up, Leo! Mom said not to say anything!”

“And what else did your mom tell you not to say?”

It was then that Chloe broke. The tears started falling like a waterfall.

“That Dad is boring. That Uncle Dominic is more fun.”

“That soon we’re going to have a new house with a pool.”

“That we’re not going to be poor like Dad anymore.”

“That we’re not going to end up like you, Grandma, living in an old, ugly house.”

I hugged her. For the first time in years, my granddaughter allowed me to hug her, and she cried. She cried like the 10-year-old girl she was, not like the little robot Brooke had tried to create.

“Grandma,”

Aiden whispered, and for the first time, there was no hostility in his voice.

“Does Dad know?”

“No, my love. Your dad doesn’t know anything.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I’m going to do something better. I’m going to make sure you are all okay, that your dad is okay, and that your mom… well, that your mom gets exactly what she deserves.”