I had always found my mother-in-law, Denise, somewhat overbearing but had dismissed it as her being protective of my son, Leo. Since her husband’s passing, she’d taken on more responsibilities, including babysitting Leo whenever I was on a night shift at the hospital.

“Why shouldn’t I?” she’d said to Andrew, my husband. “I have time now, so I can take on more.”

“Okay, Mom,” Andrew replied, not fully grasping what Denise was up to.

Denise was reliable and didn’t complain about her babysitting duties. Yet lately, Leo’s reactions to her visits grew troubling. He’d cling to me longer or hide when he heard her car.

I brushed it off as separation anxiety until one night before a shift when Leo burst into tears. “I don’t want Grandma to stay with me!” he cried, gripping my scrub.

I knelt beside him, trying to calm him. “But why, sweetheart? Grandma loves you and brings treats.”

Leo’s eyes darted nervously. “Because… Grandma acts strange,” he said, eyes wide.

I was about to ask more, but Denise’s footsteps approached. Leo bolted to his room. “What’s going on?” Denise asked.

“Nothing,” I replied quickly. “He just ran to play.”

As I left for work, I couldn’t shake the unease from Leo’s words. “Grandma acts strange.” What did that even mean to a child?

The next morning, Leo was on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, his eyes red from crying. “Leo, did you sleep?” I asked, pulling a blanket around him.

“No, Mommy,” he said. “I stayed up. I didn’t want to sleep.”

“Why not?” I asked, heart sinking.

“Because Grandma scares me,” he said, clutching his teddy bear.

Panic surged. “What did Grandma do?”

“She keeps trying to put something into my mouth,” Leo said, trembling. “Cotton buds. She says she wants to put my spit in a tube. I don’t like it.”

My blood ran cold. Since Leo’s accident and his fear of doctors, the thought of Denise trying to perform a DNA test on him was horrifying.

“Where’s Grandma?” I asked.

“In the guest room,” he said.

I stormed to the guest room and shook Denise awake. “Wake up, we need to talk.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, blinking.

“Leo told me you’ve been trying to swab his mouth for a test. Why are you traumatizing my son?” I demanded.

Denise’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten Leo. I’ve been wondering about something…”

“What could be so important that you’d do this behind my back?”

“His hair,” she said. “Nobody in our family has blonde hair like that.”

“So you think my son isn’t Andrew’s because of his hair color?” I asked incredulously.

“I know it sounds crazy,” she admitted. “I just needed to know, but I didn’t want to accuse you.”

“I can’t believe you’d go this far,” I said. “Please leave. I need to focus on Leo.”

Denise left, defeated. The tension between Andrew and me mounted. Denise had told Andrew everything, planting seeds of doubt.

“I think we should do the test,” Andrew suggested quietly.

“You think that’s necessary?” I asked, hurt.

“It’s not about believing it,” he said. “It’s about clearing the air. What if Leo was switched at birth?”

“I had a home birth!” I protested. “You would remember if you were here.”

“Alright,” I said finally. “I’ll do the test, but on one condition.”

“What condition?” Andrew asked.

“If I’m proving Leo is yours, you need to prove your father is really your father. Denise needs to understand what it feels like.”

Andrew looked shocked. “Why would you suggest that?”

“Because if she’s obsessed with bloodlines, she should be sure of her own,” I said firmly.

Andrew hesitated but agreed. A few days later, the results confirmed Leo was indeed Andrew’s son. However, Andrew’s test revealed his biological father wasn’t the man he’d known as Dad.

“What the hell, Zoe?” Andrew exclaimed.

“This is for you and your mother to discuss,” I said, stepping back from the drama.

Andrew’s conversation with his mother revealed she’d had an affair, leading to Andrew’s birth. “I can’t forgive her,” he said, shaken.

“So, what does this mean?” I asked.

“It means we take time away from her and focus on our son. She betrayed our family, not us,” he replied.

I nodded, ready to focus on our family and move past Denise’s drama. Her guilt had projected her insecurities onto us, and I was determined to put our son’s well-being first.