## My husband showed up in a sports car to pick up our daughter, and her teacher was so impressed she added him on social media. She claimed it was to “better communicate about the child’s education.” Soon after, her profile picture changed to a heavily filtered selfie, and her social posts turned into daily updates about being “so ready to find love.” I was blissfully unaware of this little drama—until one day, I caught my husband video-calling her while holding our daughter. “Daddy, I want Miss Taylor to be my new mommy!” my daughter chirped. “Yes, yes, Daddy will get a divorce right away,” my husband replied with a grin. Watching the three of them act like a happy little family, I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. Seriously? Just because he’s driving a fancy car, my husband—who lives off me—thinks he’s a billionaire now? Time to remind him where he came from. He can crawl back to his broke job anytime. For our 10th wedding anniversary, I bought my husband, Mason, 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. Mason 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, Mason couldn’t wait to snap pictures and show off to his friends. But in his excitement, he accidentally posted it in our daughter Angie’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!” “Angie’s dad, what kind of business are you in? You must be loaded!” I quickly messaged Mason, 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 Mason could invest in their business ideas. And Mason? 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, Mason 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 Angie’s teacher, Miss Taylor, 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 Mason: “@Angie’s Dad, I’ve sent you a friend request. Please accept it—I need to discuss some things about Angie’s behavior at school.” Mason immediately replied, “Is Angie in trouble? Did something happen?” Miss Taylor’s response came quickly: “Let’s discuss this privately.” I started to worry. Had something happened to Angie at school? I sent Miss Taylor 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 Mason. “What did Angie’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. Lee, 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. “Angie’s Mom, don’t you think this Miss Taylor messaging your husband is a little… off?” I replied politely, brushing it off with a couple of vague responses.
Mason 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 Taylor’s little schemes. Even if she was hellbent on seduction, it would only work if Mason 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, Angie. 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 Angie turned her head away, pouting. “I don’t need you to spend time with me. I have Miss Taylor! 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 Taylor 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. “Angie, that’s no way to talk to your mother!” Angie 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 Taylor to be my new mommy!” I told myself it was just childish nonsense. Angie was too young to understand what she was saying. But someone had clearly been feeding her these words. When we got home, Angie jumped out of the car and ran to the front door. She shoved it open and shouted, “Daddy! Daddy!” Mason emerged from the kitchen, wearing an apron and cleaning gloves. Angie 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 Taylor home instead? Please?” At the mention of Miss Taylor’s name, Mason 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, Angie. 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. Mason’s gaze was full of helplessness, while Angie’s eyes sparkled with triumphant glee. I took a deep breath and asked, “Angie, who’s been teaching you to say such things? Don’t you know how to tell right from wrong anymore?” Angie’s tears started up again. She clung to Mason’s leg like a frightened kitten and whimpered, “Daddy, look at Mommy! She’s so scary, like a wicked witch!” Mason scooped her up into his arms, giving me an annoyed look. “Jenna, 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, Mason carried Angie 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, Angie. 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 Mason has taken on most of the responsibility for our daughter, Angie. 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, Angie had grown distant, and her attitude toward me had turned sharp and cold. I couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Taylor’s meddling had something to do with it. After some thought, I decided to have a heart-to-heart talk with Angie. I carefully pushed open her bedroom door, only to find her sitting in Mason’s lap, video-calling someone. They didn’t notice me come in, as they were seated with their backs to the door. Angie held the phone close to her face, her voice sweet and eager. “Miss Taylor, 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 Taylor’s voice was filled with undisguised delight. “Angie, 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?” Angie tilted her head with a little huff. “Of course not! I can’t wait to have a new mommy!” She grinned and added, “Miss Taylor, 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?” Mason 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 Taylor wasn’t just overstepping her bounds; she was digging her own grave. At one point, Mason glanced at the screen and caught sight of my skirt in the background. His expression froze immediately. He gently set Angie down and stammered, “Jenna, wait, it’s not what you think! We’re just trying to make Angie happy—” Before he could finish, Angie 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 Angie’s hands and addressed Miss Taylor directly. “Miss Taylor, 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 Taylor covered her mouth in fake surprise, her eyes gleaming with smugness. “Oh, Angie’s Mom,” she said sweetly, “we were just trying to make Angie happy. Why do you have to take everything so seriously?” She smirked and added, “No wonder Angie 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 Taylor, 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 Taylor didn’t seem fazed by my threat. If anything, she doubled down, pretending to look concerned for Angie. “Angie’s Mom,” she said with a sigh, “even if you dislike me, you should think about what’s best for Angie. 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 Angie, her voice soft and pitiful. “Angie, 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. Angie 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 Taylor!” She stormed out of the room, sobbing. Mason 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 Taylor. At first, their chats had seemed innocent enough. Miss Taylor would send pictures of Angie at school, along with comments like: “Mr. Carter, Angie said her hair hurt today, so I fixed it for her. Looks like her mom doesn’t really know much about these things, huh?” “Angie often tells me what a great dad you are, but she doesn’t mention her mom much. Is she not very involved?” “Today, Angie 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 Taylor started sending pictures of herself with Angie—her holding Angie 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 Angie calling her “Mommy,” and even casual questions about Mason’s job and income. Mason, 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 Taylor, 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 Mason 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 Angie’s preschool over coffee. After showing him the messages, his face turned pale. “Ms. Carter, I sincerely apologize. Miss Taylor’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 Taylor probably didn’t know that I was a major shareholder in the school. And I wasn’t afraid to use my power. 5 The next evening, the director of Angie’s preschool called me. His voice was filled with exasperation. “Ms. Carter, after we spoke with Miss Taylor today, something seems to have happened between her and your daughter. Now Angie is refusing to let Miss Taylor leave and has even rallied other kids to get their parents involved.”
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