He smiled reassuringly. “They’re still adjusting, honey. Blended families take time, and Lily’s used to being an only child.”
He meant well, but my instincts were screaming that whatever was going on with Lily was bigger than just adjustment issues.
The turning point came one evening when I found Lily curled up on my bed while Ava and Sophie laughed in the next room. She was hugging her stuffed bunny tight against her chest.
I sat beside her. “Sweetheart… are Ava and Sophie being unkind to you?”
“I don’t want them to get mad,” she whispered. “And I don’t want Daddy to think I’m lying.”
My heart sank. I didn’t know exactly what was happening, but I knew enough: she felt intimidated, and she didn’t feel safe telling the truth.
The next morning, after Lily went to school, I dug out a small voice recorder from an old job. It was simple, discreet, and small enough to hide behind the basket of books under her bed.
I told no one.
The following day, once the kids had left for school, I retrieved the recorder, closed Lily’s bedroom door, sat on the floor, and pressed play.
What I heard shook me to the core.
