My former husband handed our little boy a wooden rocking horse, but the moment I lifted the lid and saw a tiny recorder tucked inside, I called my solicitor straight away.
Our divorce had been a hard-fought battle, yet dragging our son Ethan into the fray was a step even Anthony would not have imagined. My hands trembled as I stared at the device; the urge to smash it against the wall rose like a tide.
Reason had to prevail. I needed counselsomeone to calm my nerves and reassure me that I would not lose our child over this.
With shaking fingers I dialed Susan Clarke. She answered on the second ring, her voice steady as a lighthouse.
Poppy? she said, her tone firm and soothing.
Susan, you wont believe what Anthony has done, I managed, tears barely held back. Hes hidden a recorder inside Ethans rocking horse. Hes trying to gather evidence against me.
Susan sighed, the soft rustle of papers audible behind her. Take a deep breath, Poppy. Anything recorded in that manner would be inadmissible in court. Hell have no use for it.
Are you sure? I whispered.
Absolutely, she replied with confidence. Stay calm. If this comes to light, it will turn on him. How did you discover it?
I told her the whole tale, from the strange sounds at night to the moment I found the concealed gadget.
When I finished, Susan said, All right. Use this to your advantage. Make sure nothing useful remains on the recorder. Flip the situation in your favour.
Her words lit a fire inside me. I would not let Anthony get away clean. Thank you, Susan. Ill handle it.
Determined, I lifted the recorder and spoke straight into it, Did you hear that, Anthony? Whatever youre planning, it wont work.
I spent several hours setting a little trap. I placed the recorder beside the television and let it capture the endless drone of childrens cartoons and advertising jingles. The monotonous hum left the device with nothing but idle noise.
Satisfied, I slipped the recorder back into the rocking horse, ensuring everything looked untouched. The thrill of outwitting Anthony was almost tangible.
The weekend arrived and Anthony came over. I greeted him with practiced politeness, my stomach a knot of anticipation. I watched as he chatted with Ethan, his eyes flickering toward the rocking horse now and then.
Ethan, why dont you show your dad how you ride your little horse? I suggested, my voice as sweet as honey.
Ethan leapt onto the toy with delight. Anthonys gaze narrowed, a calculating look crossing his face.
I waited, heart pounding, as Anthony discreetly reached for the device. A thin smile tugged at my lips, imagining his disappointment when he later listened to the useless recordings.
Days passed and Anthony never mentioned the incident. His silence spoke louder than any accusation. It seemed he knew he had been bested and chose not to acknowledge it. I took his quiet as an unspoken concession, a tacit ceasefire.
The surge of triumph and relief was immense. I had protected my son and outsmarted my exhusband. That small yet significant victory bolstered my resolve to stay vigilant.
Anthony would never have the upper hand again. Not now, and never.
Later, when Ethan was already tucked in and the house hushed, I couldnt help but smile. The rocking horse sat innocently in the corner, the room quiet as a graveyard at night.
I had been tested, and I had won. And I knew, should the need arise, I would do it again, whatever the cost, to keep my son safe and his life as happy as a summers day.
