My exhusband thought itd be clever to give our little lad a wooden swing for his bedroom, but when I spotted a tiny recorder tucked inside, I rang my solicitor straight away.
The divorce had been a proper circus, but dragging Ethan into his schemes? That was a new low, even for Anthony. My hands were shaking as I stared at the device, and the urge to hurl it through the wall was almost unbearable.
I had to keep my wits about me. I needed someone sensible to calm me down and assure me I wouldnt lose my son over this.
With trembling fingers I dialled Susans number. She answered on the second ring.
Evelyn? Whats the trouble? Her steady voice was like a lifeline.
Susan, you wont believe what Anthonys done, I managed, choking back tears. Hes hidden a recorder in Ethans swing. He wants to gather ammunition against me.
Susan sighed, the sound of papers shuffling in the background. Take a deep breath, Evelyn. Anything recorded that way wont hold up in court. He cant use it.
Are you sure? I whispered.
Absolutely, she replied with confidence. Stay calm. If this ever sees the light of day, itll backfire on him. How did you find out?
I walked her through the whole oddball saga the strange clicks at night, the moment I finally opened the swings underside.
When Id finished, Susan said, Right. Heres what you do. Turn it to your advantage. Make sure theres nothing useful on that recorder. Flip the script.
Her words lit a fire under me. I wasnt about to let Anthony walk away unscathed. Thanks, Susan. Ill sort it out.
Determined, I lifted the recorder and spoke straight into it, You hearing that, Anthony? Whatever youre plotting, its not going to work.
I spent a few hours setting a little trap. I placed the recorder by the telly and let it capture hours of childrens cartoons and endless adverts. The monotony left it with nothing but static and bored silence.
Satisfied, I slipped the device back into the swing, making sure everything looked untouched. The smug pleasure of outwitting Anthony was almost tangible.
The weekend arrived and Anthony dropped by. I greeted him with the kind of feigned politeness that makes you want to roll your eyes. My stomach did a nervous little jig as I watched him chat with Ethan, his eyes flicking toward the swing every now and then.
Ethan, why dont you show Dad how you can gallop on your wooden horse? I said, my voice syrupy sweet.
Ethan bounced onto the toy horse with glee. Anthonys gaze narrowed, calculating.
I waited, heart thudding, as Anthony slipped the recorder out unnoticed. I barely contained my grin, thinking of his disappointment when he finally plays back the dull drivel.
Days passed and Anthony never mentioned the incident. His silence spoke volumes. He clearly knew hed lost, and he wasnt about to admit it. I took his quiet as an unspoken truce a sign hed been bested.
The surge of triumph and relief was astounding. Id protected my son and outsmarted my former husband. That tiny, cheeky victory only strengthened my resolve to stay on guard.
Anthony wont get the better of me, now or ever.
Later, when Ethan was fast asleep, I couldnt help but smile. The house was still, the swing sat innocently in the corner.
Id been tested, and Id come out on top. And I knew Id do it again, whatever comes, to keep my boy safe and happy.
