My Daughter-in-Law Said: “You Do Nothing, So Babysit My Kids While I Travel” – She Never Expected What I Did Next.
“That will depend on her and on what the judge decides is best for you.”
That night as we ate the chili I had made with Chloe’s help, Aiden said something that filled me with pride.
“Grandma, thank you for not giving up. For fighting for us when we weren’t even fighting for ourselves.”
“I will always fight for you. Always.”
“You know,”
Chloe added.
“These have been the best days of my life. For the first time, I feel like I’m in a family.”
“Me too,”
Leo said with a mouthful of chili.
“And Grandma’s food isn’t horrible. It’s the best in the world!”
We laughed. For the first time in years, we laughed as a family. But while the children watched a movie in the living room, Michael and I had a more serious conversation in the kitchen.
“Mom, I’m scared. What if Brooke becomes violent? What if she tries to take the kids by force?”
“That’s why we have the plan. The day she arrives, the children will be at Carol’s house. The police will be alerted. The lawyer will be present.”
“She won’t be alone with them for a single minute.”
“And what if the kids miss her later? What if they hate me for separating them from their mother?”
“The children will miss the mother they never had, not the one they do have.”
“And with therapy and love, they will heal. We will all heal.”
I looked at my grandchildren in the living room, cuddled on the sofa watching the movie. In 10 days, they had changed so much.
They were no longer the little broken tyrants who had arrived; they were children. Just children who needed love and boundaries. There were three days left until Brooke’s return.
Three days to finish legally protecting these children. Because what Brooke didn’t know was that while she was enjoying herself in Miami, an army had risen here.
An army of love, truth, and justice. And we were ready for war.
At 11:58 in the morning, Michael and I were sitting in the living room with Mr. Martinez beside us. The documents were on the coffee table like soldiers ready for battle.
My phone showed a message from Carol: “The kids are fine, playing in the yard. They don’t suspect a thing.” At 12:03, we heard the engine of Brooke’s SUV.
My heart was beating so hard I was sure Michael could hear it.
“Calm down, Mom,”
he said, taking my hand.
“She has no power over us anymore.”
The door opened without a knock—classic Brooke, walking in as if she owned the place. She was tan, wearing a new dress that probably cost more than my monthly pension, and dragging a Louis Vuitton suitcase.
“Ugh, it’s so hot!”
she exclaimed without even looking at us.
“Michael? What are you doing here? You should be at work.”
“Where are the kids? I hope you haven’t spoiled them, Helen. It’s hard enough for me to—”
She stopped when she saw the lawyer.
“Who is this?”
Brooke. Michael stood up. His voice was firm, nothing like the exhausted man who had arrived 13 days ago.
“We need to talk.”
“Talk about what? I’m tired from the trip. The kids and I are going home.”
“The kids aren’t here,”
I said calmly.
“And they’re not going anywhere with you.”
Her face changed; the mask of sweetness cracked a little.
“Excuse me? Michael, what does this mean?”
Mr. Martinez cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Miller, I’m Mr. Martinez. I represent Mr. Miller in the divorce and emergency custody proceedings he has initiated.”
“Divorce?”
She let out a nervous laugh.
“Michael, honey, what did your mother do to you now? You know she’s old and makes things up.”
“No, Brooke.”
Michael took out his phone and played an audio file. It was her own voice. “The brats get in my way. As soon as I can, I’ll get rid of them. Michael is such an idiot he won’t even notice.”
The color drained from Brooke’s face.
“That’s… that’s edited! It’s illegal to record someone without their consent!”
“It’s also illegal,”
the lawyer interjected,
“to open credit cards in your husband’s name without his knowledge. $30,000 in debt, ma’am.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Michael placed the bank statements on the table.
“Three cards, Brooke. All documented.”
“We also have,”
I continued,
“evidence of the house in Miami. The one you bought with Dominic using the money you stole from the savings account.”
“I didn’t steal anything! It’s joint money!”
“Which you emptied without your husband’s consent to buy a property in your lover’s name,”
the lawyer specified.
“That’s marital fraud.”
Brooke looked at me with pure hatred.
“You… this is all your fault! You meddling old woman! You always wanted to separate me from Michael!”
“No, Brooke. You separated yourself. I just documented your crimes.”
“Crimes? Please! What are you going to do? Sue me for being unhappy in my marriage?”
“No,”
