My Son And His Wife Went On A Cruise, Leaving Me To Babysit My 8-Year-Old Grandson Who Had Never Spoken Around Us. As Soon As The Door Clicked Shut, He Stopped Rocking, Looked Straight In The Eye, And Whispered In A Clear Voice: “Grandma, Don’t Drink The Tea Mom Made For You… Not Yet.” A Chill Ran Through Me…

“Who was she talking to on the phone?” I asked. “I don’t know,” Damian said. “But whoever it was, they were helping her plan.”

“They talked about how much medicine would be enough and how to make sure there wouldn’t be an investigation afterward.”

The scope of the conspiracy was expanding beyond just my daughter-in-law’s greed.

There was someone else involved—someone providing expertise or encouragement or both. “Damian,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “do you understand what your mother is trying to do to me?”

He nodded solemnly. “She wants you to die, Grandma.

She thinks if you die, Dad will inherit your house and all your money, and then she’ll be able to control it because Dad does whatever she tells him to.”

Out of the mouths of babes. This eight-year-old child had grasped the essential truth that I’d been too trusting, too loving to see clearly. Nyla viewed me not as a person, not as family, but as an obstacle.

An obstacle standing between her and a $450,000 house, plus my life savings. “But here’s what she doesn’t know,” I said, feeling a spark of defiant determination ignite in my chest. “I’m not as easy to get rid of as she thinks.”

“And now I have something she never counted on.”

“What’s that?” Damian asked.

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