I stared dumbly at it, trying to think of how it might’ve gotten there when the realization hit me like a freight train. Anthony.
He was trying to gather evidence against me, to challenge our custody arrangement. The fury that surged through me was overwhelming.
How dare he use our son like this?
I slipped out of Ethan’s room, leaving the horse behind, but clutching the voice recorder in my hand.
My mind was racing as I paced the living room, feeling tears of frustration welling up. I tried to recall everything I’d said near that horse. Could any of my words be twisted to make me look unfit?
My thoughts were a jumbled mess of anger, hurt, and betrayal.
I couldn’t believe Anthony would stoop to this level.
Sure, our divorce had been messy, but dragging Ethan into this? That was a new low, even for him. My fingers trembled as I stared at the recorder, the urge to smash it against the wall almost overwhelming.
But I had to be smart about this.
I needed advice, someone to reassure me that I wasn’t about to lose my son over this.
With shaky hands, I dialed my lawyer’s number. She picked up on the second ring.
“Genevieve? What’s wrong?” Susan’s calm, steady voice was a lifeline.
“Susan, you won’t believe what Anthony did,” I said, my voice cracking.
“He planted a voice recorder in Ethan’s rocking horse. He’s trying to gather evidence against me.”
Susan sighed, and I could hear her shuffling papers in the background. “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 asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Absolutely,” Susan replied confidently. “Stay calm.
This will only backfire on him if it comes to light. How did you find it?”
I explained the whole thing, from the strange noises to the late-night discovery.
Susan listened patiently, and when I finished, she said, “Alright. Here’s what you’re going to do.
Use this to your advantage. Make sure whatever’s on that recorder is useless. Turn the tables on him.”
Her words sparked a fire in me.
I wasn’t going to let Anthony get away with this.
“Thanks, Susan. I’ll take it from here.”
Determined, I lifted the recorder and spoke directly into it. “Did you hear my lawyer, Anthony?
Whatever you’re trying to pull off won’t work.”
I spent the next few hours setting the trap. I placed the recorder next to the TV and let it capture hours of children’s cartoons and TV ads.
The mundane, repetitive noise would leave him with nothing but frustration.
Once I was satisfied, I carefully placed the recorder back inside the rocking horse, ensuring everything looked untouched. The satisfaction of outsmarting Anthony was almost tangible.
The weekend came, and with it, Anthony’s visit.
I greeted him with forced politeness, my stomach churning with anticipation. I watched discreetly as he interacted with Ethan, his eyes flicking to the rocking horse more than once.
“Ethan, why don’t you show Daddy how you ride your horse?” I suggested, my voice saccharine sweet.
Ethan obliged, hopping onto the horse with glee. Anthony’s eyes followed him, a calculating look crossing his face.
I waited, heart pounding, as Anthony subtly retrieved the device.
I could barely contain my satisfaction, imagining his frustration when he listened to the useless recordings.
Days passed, and Anthony never brought up the incident. His silence spoke volumes. It was as if he knew he had been defeated and didn’t want to admit it.
I interpreted his silence as an acknowledgment of defeat, a silent truce.
The sense of triumph and relief I felt was immense. I had protected my son and outwitted my ex-husband. This victory, small but significant, reinforced my resolve to remain vigilant.
Anthony wouldn’t get the better of me.
Not now, not ever.
In the quiet moments after Ethan had gone to bed, I found myself smiling. The house was silent, the rocking horse standing innocently in the corner.
I’d been tested, and I had prevailed. And I knew I’d do it again, whatever it took, to keep my son safe and happy.
