Our divorce had been a nightmare, but dragging Ethan into it? That was a new low, even for him. My hands shook as I stared at the recorder in front of me, the urge to smash it against the wall almost overwhelming. But I had to stay composed. I needed advice, someone to reassure me that I wasn’t about to lose my son over this.
With a trembling hand, I dialed my lawyer’s number. She picked up after two rings.
“Genevieve? What’s going on?” Susan’s calm, steady voice was a lifeline.
“Susan, you won’t believe what Anthony did,” I said, my voice cracking. “He put a voice recorder in Ethan’s rocking horse. He’s trying to gather evidence against me.”
I could hear Susan sigh, followed by the sound of papers rustling. “Take a deep breath, Genevieve. Any evidence gathered this way is inadmissible in court. He can’t use it against you.”
“Are you sure?” I whispered, barely able to contain my worry.
“Absolutely,” Susan reassured me. “Stay calm. If this gets out, it will backfire on him. How did you find it?”
I explained everything—how I had heard strange noises, then found the recorder hidden inside Ethan’s toy.
Susan listened carefully, and once I finished, she said, “Alright, here’s what you need to do. Use this to your advantage. Make sure whatever’s on that recorder is completely useless. Turn the tables on him.”
Her words sparked something inside me.
I wasn’t about to let Anthony get away with this. “Thanks, Susan. I’ll handle it from here.”
Fueled by determination, I picked up the recorder and spoke directly into it. “Did you hear my lawyer, Anthony? Whatever you’re trying, it won’t work.”
I spent the next few hours setting the trap. I placed the recorder near the TV and let it capture nothing but the sound of children’s cartoons and annoying TV ads.
The mundane noise would give him nothing but frustration.
Once I was satisfied, I carefully placed the recorder back in the rocking horse, making sure everything looked as if it hadn’t been touched. The satisfaction of outsmarting Anthony was almost overwhelming.
When the weekend came, so did Anthony’s visit. I greeted him with forced politeness, my stomach in knots. I kept an eye on him as he interacted with Ethan, noticing how his eyes kept flicking to the rocking horse.
“Ethan, why don’t you show Daddy how you ride your horse?” I said sweetly, a smile masking my nerves.
Ethan eagerly hopped onto the horse, his face lighting up. Anthony’s gaze followed him, a calculating look passing over his features.
I waited, heart pounding in anticipation, as Anthony subtly retrieved the recorder. I could hardly contain my joy, imagining his frustration when he played the recording and heard nothing but the boring sounds of cartoons.
Days passed, and Anthony never brought up the recorder. His silence said everything. It was as if he knew he had been defeated and wasn’t ready to admit it. I saw his silence as a quiet surrender, a tacit acknowledgment of his loss.
The feeling of triumph and relief was immense. I had protected my son and outsmarted my ex-husband. This small victory strengthened my resolve to remain vigilant.
Anthony wouldn’t get the better of me. Not now, not ever.
That evening, after Ethan had gone to bed, I sat in the quiet of the house, a smile creeping onto my face. The rocking horse stood innocently in the corner, a symbol of my success.
I had been tested, and I had prevailed. And I knew I’d do whatever it took to keep my son safe and happy.