Robert’s wife, Sarah, passed away when their daughter, Abby, was only ten. Sarah had always been the light of the room—kind, vibrant, and effortlessly beautiful. But a long illness had stripped her of her health, eventually withering the woman she used to be.
The news of her passing hit Robert like a physical blow. For a long time, he lived in a state of suspended disbelief. He drifted through his days, hollowed out by grief and a gnawing sense of guilt that wouldn’t let him sleep.
When Sarah breathed her last, Robert wasn’t even in the city. He’d been away on a business trip, a fact he could never quite forgive himself for.
— Sarah was a wonderful woman, Robert. But you have to stop punishing yourself. You have to move on, — his wife’s best friend, Sophie, told him one evening.
— I know I should. I hear the words, but I just… I can’t, — Robert replied, burying his face in his hands.
— Stop wallowing. You need to pull yourself together. You have a daughter who’s growing up fast, and more than anything, she needs her father, — Sophie insisted, her voice firm but kind.
Two years passed. Slowly, the fog began to lift. Robert threw himself into work and took care of the house, doing his best to raise Abby. During a summer trip to the coast, he met Beatrice. Their relationship moved with a speed that caught everyone off guard.
— I’d like you to meet someone, — Robert told his daughter one afternoon, bringing a young, striking woman into their living room. — This is Beatrice. She’s very sweet, and she’s become very important to me.
— You can just call me Beatrice, — she added with a practiced smile.
— I don’t want to meet anyone, — Abby said, her lower lip trembling. — I want her to leave.
— Honey, that’s not polite. You don’t even know her yet. She’s wonderful, I promise. You’ll see.
— Make her leave, — Abby repeated, pointing toward the front door.
— It’s alright, darling. We’ll get along just fine. I have a way with children, — Beatrice said to Robert. She leaned down as if to give the girl a hug, but as her face neared Abby’s ear, her voice dropped to a cold, razor-thin whisper.
— Listen to me, you little brat. Whether you like it or not, I’m moving in. You can either stay out of my way, or I’ll make your life a living hell.
Beatrice pulled back with a dazzling smile, while Abby stood frozen, her breath hitched in her throat.
She’s a witch, the girl thought, trembling.
Over the next few months, Beatrice became a permanent fixture. She started staying overnight, always bringing gifts for Abby—expensive dolls, designer clothes, boxes of chocolates. But Abby refused to touch any of them.
Robert noticed the mountain of unopened boxes in the back of Abby’s closet. The sweets were eventually eaten by Robert or given away to the neighborhood kids.
— How are things, sweetheart? — he asked one evening, pulling Abby onto the sofa beside him.
— Everything’s fine, Dad.
— Look, I know how much I like Beatrice. I really wish you two could just be friends.
— No, Dad. I don’t want to be her friend. She’s mean, — Abby cried out suddenly, sprinting off to her room.
— Why are you acting like this? — Robert asked, following her. — She buys you all these beautiful things. Isn’t that what every girl wants?
— I’m not a little kid anymore! And I want Mom back. She’d never let that horrible woman stay here.
— Abby, Mom is gone. You know that. She’s not coming back, as much as we both wish she could.
— Aren’t the two of us enough, Dad? Why do we need her? — Abby asked, searching her father’s tired eyes.
— Life isn’t that simple, kiddo. We’re great together, but a home needs a woman’s touch. Someone to help with the cooking, to help you with your hair, to be there for you when things get tough. She’s not replacing your mother, but… I need her.
— Well, I don’t! — Abby shouted, bolting out of the house in tears.
Two hours later, Sophie called. Abby had shown up at her door, hysterical.
— I tried talking to her, Robert, but she won’t hear a word about Beatrice. Are you sure about this woman? Children are often more intuitive than we give them credit for. Is it possible you’re blinded by how she treats you?
— Not you too, Sophie. Have you and Abby been comparing notes? I love Beatrice, and she’s moving in. Period.
— Fine. Just be careful, Robert. I hope you don’t live to regret this.
A few weeks later, Beatrice moved in officially. She brought so many clothes that they overflowed from the master bedroom. Robert eventually had to move half of Abby’s things to the basement to make room in the hallway closets for Beatrice’s wardrobe.
— Dad, she took all my space. Where am I supposed to put my stuff?
— Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get a new wardrobe soon, and you’ll get your space back.
The wardrobe never arrived. Instead, they bought a massive, multi-level cat tower and a designer bed for Beatrice’s Siamese cat, Maddie. Maddie was beautiful but vicious. She scratched Abby constantly and seemed to take pleasure in shredding the girl’s stuffed animals.
— Dad, that cat is a monster.
— Oh, stop it. Maddie’s just adjusting to a new home. Once she gets to know you, she’ll be a sweetheart, — Robert promised.
But Maddie wasn’t a sweetheart. She hunted Abby. She would wait around corners to hiss at her or jump onto her bed in the middle of the night, claws out.
One afternoon, Abby was walking through the living room when Maddie lunged at her ankles, biting hard.
— Ow! Stop it! — Abby scrambled back, accidentally knocking into a large ceramic floor vase. The vase wobbled, tipped, and shattered into a thousand pieces against the hardwood.
— What happened? — Beatrice stormed in. — Oh, God. Don’t tell me you broke my favorite vase. Your father bought me that in Italy! You clumsy little brat!
— It wasn’t my fault! The cat attacked me! — Abby cried.
— Maddie? How dare you blame a helpless animal for your own malice? Go to your room. Now! And don’t expect any dinner.
— But I’m hungry!
— Out of my sight!
Abby retreated to her room, crying as she called Sophie. Meanwhile, Beatrice spent the evening sobbing into Robert’s shoulder about how “difficult” and “violent” Abby was becoming.
— I’m sure it was an accident, Beatrice. I’ll talk to her. We’ll buy you a new one, I promise.
— She hates me, Robert. She did it on purpose just to hurt me. And I’ve tried so hard to love her like my own…
— I know, I know. It’ll get better, — he whispered, stroking her hair.
It became a pattern. Beatrice would twist every interaction, painting Abby as a liar and a rebel.
— Dad, I need a new coat for school. Mine doesn’t fit anymore, — Abby said one morning.
— Wait, didn’t you and Beatrice go shopping last weekend?
— Oh, you know how kids are, — Beatrice chimed in, leaning against the doorframe. — She couldn’t decide on anything. She was being so difficult I finally just gave up. She really needs some discipline, Robert.
— She’s lying, Dad! She told me we had to buy all her stuff first, and then there wasn’t any money left for me!
— Stop lying! Robert, do you see this? She’s become a compulsive liar. Why would I deny her a coat? It’s ridiculous.
— I don’t know who’s telling the truth anymore, — Robert sighed, rubbing his temples. — I’m tired of the fighting. Abby, listen to Beatrice. Beatrice, please try to remember Abby needs things too. I provide the budget, just… make it work for everyone.
Beatrice would smile sweetly at Robert, but the moment he left for work, the mask slipped. Abby spent her nights crying and her days hiding at Sophie’s house.
— She’s a monster, Sophie. She’s only nice when Dad’s looking. She won’t even let me use the heater in my room because she says it’s “wasteful.”
— She sounds incredibly manipulative, — Sophie warned. — Just keep your head down, Abby. We’ll figure something out.
— Why did he pick her? Why not someone like you? You actually care about us, — Abby muttered.
Sophie just offered a sad, tight smile. — Life is complicated, sweetie.
One afternoon, Abby came home early from school and heard Beatrice talking loudly on the phone in the kitchen.
— No, Liz, I’m not “in love.” The guy is a total pushover, — Beatrice laughed. — He’s got plenty of money and this house is worth a fortune. You should see the place. Once I get him to walk down the aisle, I’ll have enough leverage to take half in the divorce. I’ve got it all planned out.
Abby covered her mouth to keep from gasping. Suddenly, Maddie the cat darted out from under a chair and bit Abby’s leg. Abby jumped back, knocking a heavy book off the side table.
— Liz, I have to go. Someone’s here.
Beatrice rounded the corner and saw Abby standing there, pale.
— Oh… it’s you. I didn’t hear you come in. Go wash up, I’ll find something for you to eat.
— I’m not hungry, — Abby whispered, fleeing to her room.
When Robert got home, Abby intercepted him immediately, recounting everything she had heard.
— Abby, that’s a very serious accusation, — Robert said, his face hardening.
At that moment, Beatrice walked in, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
— What is going on? — Robert asked her. — Abby says she heard you talking about… a divorce? And my money?
— What? Robert, she’s clearly making things up again. She’s desperate to get rid of me. How could you even ask me that?
— I heard what I heard! — Abby screamed.
— Beatrice, I need an answer.
— I already told you, she’s confused. I would never say such things. Oh… oh, my head. Everything is spinning. I can’t handle this stress right now, Robert… not in my condition.
Robert immediately rushed to her side, catching her. — What do you mean? What condition?
— I took a test today. Robert… I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.
Robert’s face transformed into a mask of pure joy. — That’s incredible! Oh, honey, you need to sit down. No more housework, no more stress. I’ll hire a full-time maid tomorrow.
Beatrice smirked at Abby over Robert’s shoulder, a look of pure triumph.
— Dad, you’re still going to keep her here? — Abby asked, her voice trembling.
— Don’t be silly, Abby. We’re going to be a real family now. You’re going to have a little brother or sister.
— Why won’t you believe me? — Abby sobbed, running to her room.
The next day, a housekeeper named Isabel arrived. Beatrice spent the day ordering her around, ignoring Abby entirely. When Abby got hungry, she went to the kitchen to make tea.
— Use the stove-top kettle, — Beatrice barked from the other room. — The electric one uses too much power. We have a baby to save for now.
Abby put the kettle on the gas stove and went to the living room to start her homework. She got distracted by a game on her phone and, exhausted from the stress of the previous week, she drifted off to sleep on the sofa.
She woke up to Beatrice screaming.
— Are you insane? You nearly burned the house down!
Abby jumped up, disoriented. The kitchen was filled with a thin layer of acrid smoke. She had forgotten the kettle; the water had boiled dry, and the plastic handle was melting, sending black soot up the walls.
— This was a gift from my mother! — Beatrice shrieked, holding the ruined kettle. — You did this on purpose! Get out of my sight! I can’t breathe with you in this house!
Beatrice’s rage was terrifying. It wasn’t just anger; it was pure venom. Abby realized then that Beatrice didn’t care if she had been hurt or choked by the smoke—she only cared about the object. Terrified and heartbroken, Abby grabbed her backpack, shoved her favorite teddy bear inside, and slipped out the back door.
She walked for hours, her mind a blur of tears and cold wind. She didn’t have her phone. She didn’t have a coat. She just wanted to be gone.
By the time she stopped, she was in a part of the city she didn’t recognize. The sun was setting, and the temperature was dropping fast. She sat on a park bench, shivering in her thin shirt, and began to cry.
An elderly woman walking a Golden Retriever approached her. — Are you alright, dear? Where are your parents?
Abby poured her heart out—the “witch” at home, the fire, the fear. The woman, a retired nurse, gave Abby her scarf and a snack from her bag before walking her straight to the local police station.
The first person to burst through the doors was Sophie.
— Oh, thank God! — Sophie cried, pulling Abby into a fierce hug. — Your father has been out of his mind with worry.
— Is Dad coming? — Abby asked in a small voice.
— He’s right behind me. He’s talking to the detectives.
— Is she here?
Sophie knelt down, brushing a stray hair from Abby’s face. — No, honey. She isn’t. Your father finally listened. He did some digging after you left… and it turns out “Beatrice” has done this before. That isn’t even her real name. The police have been looking for her in connection with a fraud case in another state.
Robert appeared in the doorway, looking older than Abby had ever seen him. He ran to her, picking her up and spinning her around as if she were five years old again.
— I am so, so sorry, Abby. I was so blind. I promise, never again.
He set her down but kept his arm firmly around her shoulders, his other hand reaching out to squeeze Sophie’s arm in a silent thanks.
Abby looked at the two people standing with her—the people who actually loved her. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was finally home.
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