At 2 a.m., trapped in the office, I checked the hidden baby monitor I’d installed to see why our newborn was still crying, and my bl00d ran cold. On the screen, my mother stormed into the baby’s room, hissed, “You live off my child and you still complain?”

“Part 2: Attempted poisoning. Psychological abuse. Fabrication of evidence.

She was sentenced.

And just like that—she was gone.

Life was supposed to get better after that.

And in some ways, it did.

Mariana slowly healed. The fear in her eyes faded. Mateo laughed more, slept peacefully. The house felt… lighter.

But something inside me didn’t.

It started small.

Mariana began locking doors at night—twice, sometimes three times.

She checked Mateo constantly, even when he wasn’t crying.

If he made the slightest sound, she would rush to him like something terrible was about to happen.