When my husband said his mom was moving in to “help,” I had a terrible feeling. But when she arrived with a man from my past—and a secret that could damage me. I realized I wasn’t just hosting guests. I was their victim.
I was never a perfect mother, but I tried. I loved my kids. I loved my life. Even when it felt overwhelming.
Oliver worked late most nights, so it was just me juggling dinner, bath time, and bedtime stories.
That particular evening, after I had finally wrestled the kids into bed, Oliver was already there, sitting at the counter with an excited look on his face.
“Sweetheart,” he said.
“I have a present for you!”
He slid the laptop toward me. “Look.”
On the screen was an enrollment page for a professional pastry course I had dreamed about for years.
“Oliver… This is amazing.”
“I knew you’d love it!” He beamed.
“Well, that’s where my second surprise comes in. Mom is coming to stay with us. She’ll help with the kids so you can focus on yourself a little more.”
“Your mom? Living here?”
“It’s just for a little while,” he assured me quickly.
“She really wants to help, and it’ll be easier for you.”
On the day of my MIL’s arrival, I wanted everything to be neat and tidy.
Marian stepped out first, but my eyes weren’t on her. They were on the man beside her.
Greg!
“Kayla, meet Greg, my love!” Marian announced cheerfully.
No. No, no, no. This isn’t happening.
“Your… love?” I forced out.
“Yes, darling! I couldn’t leave him behind! He’s helpless without me!”
Helpless. Right.
Oliver stepped outside then. He took one look at Greg and Marian, and I saw the shift from surprise to barely concealed discomfort.
“I suppose… it’s fine if you both stay for a while,” he said.
“Appreciate it, man.”
Marian beamed. “Oh, this will be wonderful!”
Marian and Greg both snapped their heads toward me, their faces momentarily startled before Marian’s features smoothed into something infuriatingly smug.
“You have to leave,” I said, my voice firm.
“Oh, Kayla, always so righteous. But if you make us leave, I’ll have no choice but to tell Oliver how you helped his father escape from his own wife.”
“You… how do you know about that?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I know many things.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came. She had me. I was trapped.
And I had no idea how to get out.
The following days were pure hell.
“Kayla, bring me some coffee,” Marian called out cheerfully from the couch
I was in the middle of loading the dishwasher. My hands were wet, and my patience thin.
“The coffee maker is right there,” I said.
“But you make it so much better, dear,” she cooed.
Before I could respond, Greg’s voice cut through the air.
“Hey, kid, grab me a drink,” he barked at Arthur.
Arthur, standing by the fridge, didn’t move. He just stared at Greg, lips pressed into a thin line. No. No way.
“He’s not your waiter, Greg,” I snapped.
“Then you bring it,” he muttered.
That was just the start.
Laundry? I did it for six people.
Cooking? Marian and Greg seemed to believe meals magically appeared whenever they were hungry.
And weekends?
The nightmare
Marian started inviting guests—her friends, her yoga instructor, her hairstylist’s cousin’s neighbor. I cooked, cleaned, and served while she played the charming hostess.
When Oliver came home, everything looked… normal. Spotless. The house was tidy, the kids were happy, and Marian and Greg sat together, sipping tea like peaceful retirees.
“Why do you look so exhausted?” Oliver asked one evening. “Mom is helping you, isn’t she?”
I had to stop that. But to do it, I would have to share my own secret.
***
Oliver froze.
“Dad?” The emotions flash across Oliver’s face.
“I thought you abandoned us.”
“That’s not true, son. I left because your mother…”
“Don’t you dare!” Marian shot up from the couch.
“… made my life unbearable,” he finished.
Oliver turned to Marian.
“That’s a lie!” she spat. “Kayla set me up!”
“Oliver,” I took a deep breath. “I really did help your father years ago.”
“Explain,” Oliver looked at me.
“Years later, I found out that man was your father.”
Oliver’s eyes darted to Thomas. “You never told me?”
“You hated me, son. I didn’t want to make things worse.”
“Well, there you have it! But what difference does it make? We’re here. We are family!”
Oliver’s frown deepened. “What truth?”
“Oh, don’t listen to her, darling. She’s just upset that I’ve been staying here.”
“She used me, Oliver. She knew I wouldn’t dare say anything because I was afraid of how you’d react. And in the meantime, she and Greg settled in comfortably, letting me handle the house while they treated me like a maid.”
Oliver turned to his father. “Is that true?”
His father nodded. “That was my limit. I asked them both to leave.”
Oliver turned to his mother. “You told me Dad left because he che:ated.”
“Well, I may have exaggerated a little,” she admitted, laughing.
“Mom, I can’t believe this. You li:ed to me for years about Dad, and now you’ve manipulated your way into my home.”
“I am your mother, Oliver. I raised you. You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you my wife’s sanity.”
“Well, guess that’s that.”
“You don’t seem too concerned.”
“Not my house, not my problem.”
“Not anymore, it’s not. You both need to leave. Now.”
An hour later, they left our house.
