The kindergarten teacher began teaching my daughter to hate me. She gave her candy, attention, and promises, then whispered to her, “Your mom doesn’t love you. I’m the one who truly cares about you.” My husband didn’t stop it—he encouraged it. My daughter cried and begged him to get a divorce, to replace me with a “new mom.” It wasn’t until I sent her the repayment statements that she finally understood: my husband wasn’t a man she could steal— He was a net liability I had been supporting for a full ten years. For our 10th wedding anniversary, I bought my husband, Nathan, a silver sports car to celebrate. The moment he saw it, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. It wasn’t just any sports car—it was one of only ten limited editions in the world. Not something money alone could buy. Nathan had gushed about this car more than once, so I figured I’d surprise him. After all, our anniversary also happened to be his birthday. During the test drive, Nathan couldn’t wait to snap pictures and show off to his friends. But in his excitement, he accidentally posted it in our daughter Emily’s preschool group chat. The quiet group chat immediately exploded. “Oh my gosh, isn’t this one of those global limited-edition cars? I can’t believe the real deal is in our group!” “Emily’s dad, what kind of business are you in? You must be loaded!” I quickly messaged Nathan, telling him to delete the post. But it had been over two minutes—too late to retract it. All we could do was watch as the messages poured in. Some parents even started asking if Nathan could invest in their business ideas. And Nathan? He was eating it up. “Oh, no, no,” he replied humbly. “Just a small investment here and there. Made a bit of money, so I decided to treat myself.” Small investments? Sure. The only thing he “owned” was a failing internet café I paid for, and it had been hemorrhaging money since day one. With his lack of business skills, Nathan couldn’t afford a sports car in ten lifetimes. Still, he was my husband, and I wasn’t about to embarrass him in front of everyone. So, I kept quiet. That’s when Emily’s teacher, Miss Anderson, suddenly chimed in. At first, I thought she was going to tell everyone to stop chatting about unrelated topics in a preschool group. But instead, she directly tagged Nathan: “@Emily’s Dad, I’ve sent you a friend request. Please accept it—I need to discuss some things about Emily’s behavior at school.” Nathan immediately replied, “Is Emily in trouble? Did something happen?” Miss Anderson’s response came quickly: “Let’s discuss this privately.” I started to worry. Had something happened to Emily at school? I sent Miss Anderson a private message asking if everything was okay. She didn’t reply. Instead, she updated her profile picture. Her old photo had been a scenic landscape. Now, it was a close-up selfie—her wearing a white tank top, strategically revealing just enough skin to leave an impression. It gave off serious “pick-me” vibes. I called Nathan. “What did Emily’s teacher say?” He sounded casual. “Nothing specific. She just asked me to stop by the school. I’m heading there now.” “Drive safe,” I said, hanging up. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I went back to work, assuming it was just a minor issue. A few moments later, Mrs. Peterson, one of the moms from the group chat, sent me a private message. Her family owned a beauty salon I frequented, so we’d gotten to know each other over time. “Emily’s Mom, don’t you think this Miss Anderson messaging your husband is a little… off?” I replied politely, brushing it off with a couple of vague responses.
Nathan and I had been married for ten years, and our relationship had always been stable. He came from a modest background but treated me with unwavering care and devotion. Whatever I needed, he made it happen. For me, he willingly stayed home, managing everything in the household with precision. When I came back late and drunk from work events, he’d pick me up and have a steaming bowl of hangover soup waiting for me. So I wasn’t particularly worried about Miss Anderson’s little schemes. Even if she was hellbent on seduction, it would only work if Nathan took the bait. What I didn’t expect was for her to target my daughter first. I’ve always been busy with work, but I’ve made sure to maintain a close bond with my daughter, Emily. Lately, though, she had grown distant, and her words had taken on a strangely sharp edge. One day, I picked her up from school, planning to take her to McDonald’s for a treat. But as soon as she saw me waiting, she started crying and whining at the school gate. “Why did you have to come? I don’t want you to pick me up! I hate you!” At first, I thought she was upset because I’d been so busy with work. I took a deep breath, crouched down, and tried to soothe her. After a lot of coaxing, she finally stopped crying long enough to get into the car, her eyes red and puffy. I smiled gently and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mommy’s been so busy with work these past few days. That’s my fault. I’ll spend more time with you from now on, okay? How about going to McDonald’s for some ice cream?” But Emily turned her head away, pouting. “I don’t need you to spend time with me. I have Miss Anderson! She’s the best person in the whole world. If I want ice cream, she gives me as many as I want. Not like you, always telling me what I can’t do.” Then she added, her voice trembling with tears, “And Miss Anderson was supposed to take me to the zoo with Daddy today. But now you ruined everything by picking me up!” Her tears started falling again, and she looked like she was about to completely lose it. I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. My voice slipped into a sharper tone. “Emily, that’s no way to talk to your mother!” Emily broke down completely, wailing in the car. “You don’t love me! I hate you! I hate you so much!” Then she added, her voice filled with spite: “Daddy said he’s going to divorce you soon. You won’t be my mommy anymore! I want Miss Anderson to be my new mommy!” I told myself it was just childish nonsense. Emily was too young to understand what she was saying. But someone had clearly been feeding her these words. When we got home, Emily jumped out of the car and ran to the front door. She shoved it open and shouted, “Daddy! Daddy!” Nathan emerged from the kitchen, wearing an apron and cleaning gloves. Emily ran up to him, tears streaming down her face. “Daddy, when are you divorcing Mommy? I don’t want to spend another day with her!” “Can you bring Miss Anderson home instead? Please?” At the mention of Miss Anderson’s name, Nathan froze for a fraction of a second, his hand instinctively rubbing his nose—a telltale sign he was guilty of something. But he quickly recovered, putting on his “loving dad” face. “Don’t cry, Emily. Daddy’s heart breaks when you cry! Whatever you say, Daddy will do. You want me to divorce Mommy? Okay, Daddy will do that.” He crouched down, wiping her tears. “Now, let’s go try those cookies Daddy made just for you, okay?” Father and daughter both turned to look at me then. Nathan’s gaze was full of helplessness, while Emily’s eyes sparkled with triumphant glee. I took a deep breath and asked, “Emily, who’s been teaching you to say such things? Don’t you know how to tell right from wrong anymore?” Emily’s tears started up again. She clung to Nathan’s leg like a frightened kitten and whimpered, “Daddy, look at Mommy! She’s so scary, like a wicked witch!” Nathan scooped her up into his arms, giving me an annoyed look. “Isabella, she’s just a child. Do you really need to argue with her?” “Can you leave your work persona at the door for once? You’re so strong and commanding at work, but this is your family. Stop bringing that attitude home.” With that, Nathan carried Emily to her room, leaving me rooted to the spot in the living room. I could still hear snippets of his soothing voice through the walls. “There, there, Emily. Bad Mommy won’t bother you anymore.” Alone in the silence, I realized my hands were trembling uncontrollably.
I’ve always been busy with work, so Nathan has taken on most of the responsibility for our daughter, Emily. Still, whenever I had free time, I made sure to spend it with her. We’ve traveled together, baked cakes, and I’ve spoiled her with pretty little dresses. Whenever she got sick, I’d drop everything to stay by her side, never letting her feel a lack of motherly love. Over the years, we’ve always been close. But lately, Emily had grown distant, and her attitude toward me had turned sharp and cold. I couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Anderson’s meddling had something to do with it. After some thought, I decided to have a heart-to-heart talk with Emily. I carefully pushed open her bedroom door, only to find her sitting in Nathan’s lap, video-calling someone. They didn’t notice me come in, as they were seated with their backs to the door. Emily held the phone close to her face, her voice sweet and eager. “Miss Anderson, when are you moving into our house?” “I gave that old witch a hard time today. As soon as Daddy agrees to divorce her, I’ll make her leave! Then you can be my new mommy!” On the other end of the call, Miss Anderson’s voice was filled with undisguised delight. “Emily, you’re such a good girl! But remember, once you pick a new mommy, there’s no going back. Are you sure you won’t regret it?” Emily tilted her head with a little huff. “Of course not! I can’t wait to have a new mommy!” She grinned and added, “Miss Anderson, Daddy already said he’s going to divorce Mommy. When you move in, can you let me have as much ice cream as I want? And can we get a bunch of puppies too? Please?” Nathan sat next to her, smiling gently, not saying a word to correct her. The atmosphere between the three of them was warm, cheerful—like a little family planning their future. I stood there, stone-faced, as I pulled out my phone and began recording the entire scene. Miss Anderson wasn’t just overstepping her bounds; she was digging her own grave. At one point, Nathan glanced at the screen and caught sight of my skirt in the background. His expression froze immediately. He gently set Emily down and stammered, “Isabella, wait, it’s not what you think! We’re just trying to make Emily happy—” Before he could finish, Emily jumped in front of him like a little guard dog, her tiny fists clenched. “Mommy, you’re just a mean old witch! Don’t you dare bully Daddy!” My anger flared. I snatched the phone from Emily’s hands and addressed Miss Anderson directly. “Miss Anderson, do you think it’s appropriate to poison a child’s mind against her own mother? Don’t you find your tactics a bit… pathetic?” Miss Anderson covered her mouth in fake surprise, her eyes gleaming with smugness. “Oh, Emily’s Mom,” she said sweetly, “we were just trying to make Emily happy. Why do you have to take everything so seriously?” She smirked and added, “No wonder Emily keeps telling me you act like a wicked witch. Growing up in such a tense household must be so hard for her.” Then, as if she hadn’t insulted me enough, she added with a condescending smile, “And I’ve heard you’re out wining and dining for work all the time. A woman should know how to carry herself. Unlike me—I’d devote myself entirely to my family if I had one.” Her smugness made my blood boil. I wanted nothing more than to reach through the screen, grab her by the hair, and drag her off her high horse. But I wasn’t about to stoop to her level. I straightened my back, my face calm and cold. “Miss Anderson, as a teacher, you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to destroy someone else’s family. You’re unworthy of your position, and you’re unworthy of the trust parents put in you.” I paused, then delivered my final warning. “If you keep meddling in my family, you’ll face consequences you won’t be able to handle.” Miss Anderson didn’t seem fazed by my threat. If anything, she doubled down, pretending to look concerned for Emily. “Emily’s Mom,” she said with a sigh, “even if you dislike me, you should think about what’s best for Emily. With your temper, you’re bound to hurt her emotionally.” She shook her head and added, “Sometimes, people should stop blaming others and reflect on their own shortcomings. If your family was truly happy, there’d be no room for anyone to ‘meddle,’ as you put it.” Then, she turned to Emily, her voice soft and pitiful. “Emily, sweetheart, you know I love you like my own daughter. But your mommy really doesn’t like me. If she makes a big fuss about this, I might lose my job. So, from now on, don’t call me when you’re at home, okay? But at school, I’ll still treat you like my real daughter.” With that, she sniffled dramatically, her shoulders shaking as if she were crying, and hung up the call. Emily immediately burst into tears, screaming at me and kicking my legs. “Bad mommy! I hate you! I don’t want to live with you anymore—I want to go live with Miss Anderson!” She stormed out of the room, sobbing. Nathan gave me a helpless look before running after her, leaving his phone abandoned on the bed in his rush. I picked it up and unlocked it, scrolling through his messages with Miss Anderson. At first, their chats had seemed innocent enough. Miss Anderson would send pictures of Emily at school, along with comments like: “Mr. Miller, Emily said her hair hurt today, so I fixed it for her. Looks like her mom doesn’t really know much about these things, huh?” “Emily often tells me what a great dad you are, but she doesn’t mention her mom much. Is she not very involved?” “Today, Emily cried because all the other kids had their moms pick them up. Maybe you could remind your wife to spend more time with her?” But as time went on, the tone changed. Miss Anderson started sending pictures of herself with Emily—her holding Emily on her lap, gazing at her with a soft smile. In some of the photos, her low-cut tops revealed far more than necessary. Then there were videos of Emily calling her “Mommy,” and even casual questions about Nathan’s job and income. Nathan, of course, had exaggerated the truth, claiming he ran a chain of restaurants and a public company—conveniently omitting the fact that it was my hard work that had built everything. Miss Anderson, clearly impressed, began sending him more revealing selfies. I clenched the phone tightly, anger bubbling inside me. I wanted to smash it into pieces and kick Nathan out of the house. But no. That would be too easy. If I was going to deal with them, I’d take them both down together. The next day, I met with the director of Emily’s preschool over coffee. After showing him the messages, his face turned pale. “Ms. Miller, I sincerely apologize. Miss Anderson’s behavior has seriously violated our school’s code of conduct. If you’re dissatisfied, we can terminate her immediately.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and added, “And I can assure you, no reputable preschool will ever hire her again.” I smiled, satisfied. Miss Anderson probably didn’t know that I was a major shareholder in the school. And I wasn’t afraid to use my power.
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