I Divorced My Wife After What Her Adult Daughter Did to My Kids
Six months ago, I signed the divorce papers. I had to decide between keeping my wife and shielding my kids from something I can’t even fathom, not because the love died. The thought of what may have happened if I hadn’t seen it sooner still terrifies me.
My first wife died of cancer four years ago. I was left alone by fate with Mason, who was five at the time, and tiny Ellie, who was only three. Then came the gloomy days. Never-ending conversations about “Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?”
Rachel and I met at Riverside Community Centre. Every Saturday, she helped out at the food drive. She smiled brightly and handled the elderly with gentleness. The world seemed lighter with her around.
She replied, “You look like you could use some help,” when we first met.
I chuckled, “I look that obvious?”
“Single dad written all over your face. Takes one to know one.”
We spoke for hours. About hope, loss, and raising children alone.
From her first relationship, Rachel had Heather. She was twenty-five years old. She lived in Glendale Heights, across town, and was self-sufficient.
Rachel said, “She’ll love your kids,” on our third date.
After courting each other for a year, Rachel and I were married. She moved into our small Parker Street home. Most weekends, Heather came to visit. At first, everything seemed ideal.
Heather would say, “Look what I brought you two!” as she carried a bunch of gifts.
Mason would get excited. “What is it this time?”
She would take out painting tools or dolls and say, “Pokemon cards for you. And for Miss Ellie…”
Ellie would let out a happy squeal. “You’re the best big sister ever!”
One Saturday, Mason said, “Can you help me with my science project?”
“Of course! We’ll make the best volcano your school has ever seen.”
Rachel smiled as they watched each other. “She’s so good with children. She has this natural maternal instinct.”
I was appreciative. Even luckier. For the first time, my children had an older sister figure.
Rachel and I said, “I think we make a good team,” that night.
“The best,” she said, planting a peck on my cheek.
After seven months of marriage, minor issues began to arise. Every now and again, money disappeared from my wallet. At first, nothing significant. Only $20 or $30.
I said to Rachel, “Honey, did you take cash from my wallet?”
“No, why?”
“Missing 20 bucks. Probably left it at the grocery store.”
I attributed this to my own carelessness.
My emergency fund felt lighter two weeks later. I had $1,000 stashed away in the garage in a little tin. You know, an old habit from when I was a bachelor. Two hundred dollars was gone when I tallied.
I felt my gut tighten. But uncertainty intruded. Where had I spent it? For Mason’s new cleats, did you use it?
The following week, Ellie said, “Dad, can we have ice cream?”
“Sure, sweetheart. Let me grab some cash.”
In my palms, the tin felt strange. It was too light. When I counted the money, another three hundred dollars was gone.
I remarked, “Rachel, we need to talk,” that evening.
“About what?”
“Someone’s been taking money from my emergency fund.”
Her face turned white. “Your emergency fund? Are you sure?”
“Dead sure. Seven hundred dollars total.”
“Maybe you miscounted?”
I wished to trust her. However, the figures are honest.
The next weekend, Heather paid her customary visit. I kept a careful eye on her. She appeared lovely and normal around the children. She also helped with the supper prep.
She said, “Liam, may I assist you with dishwashing?”
“That’s kind of you, Heather.”
However, something didn’t feel right. She looked in the direction of the garage door. How she offered to pick up the garbage. little things that bothered me.
“Dead sure. Seven hundred dollars total.”
“Maybe you miscounted?”
I wished to trust her. However, the figures are honest.
The next weekend, Heather paid her customary visit. I kept a careful eye on her. She appeared lovely and normal around the children. She also helped with the supper prep.
She said, “Liam, may I assist you with dishwashing?”
“That’s kind of you, Heather.”
However, something didn’t feel right. She looked in the direction of the garage door. How she offered to pick up the garbage. little things that bothered me.
In a whisper, she said, “Heather asked where you keep your money,”
“She wanted to know about the garage tin,” Mason continued.
“We told her because she said it was for surprises,” Ellie added. “Special things for your birthday.”
My blood became icy. “She said it was for surprises?”
“Yeah! But we felt bad about it. So we didn’t want to take any. But she…”
Mason clarified, “Heather said she’d get it for us instead,” “So we wouldn’t feel guilty.”
“She made us promise not to tell. Said it would ruin everything. She gave us $10 to keep it a secret.”
I lowered myself to their level. “You two did nothing wrong. Nothing at all.”
On the inside, however, anger was growing like a tempest.
That Tuesday, I placed a little camera under paint cans in the garage. It was a piece of professional-grade, motion-activated equipment from my security days.
Heather came over for dinner on Friday. I pretended to be normal. Her jokes made me laugh. praised her new hairstyle.
I said, “I have to take a work call,” following dessert. “Back in 20 minutes.”
I watched the video on my phone from the corridor. After sneaking out the back door, Heather made her way directly to the garage. Everything was now captured on camera.
As if she had done it countless of times, she opened the fake drawer. She nonchalantly pocketed the dollars after counting them out. Not guilty. Without hesitation. It’s just outright thievery.
I waited until she came back into the kitchen and grinned as she said the children good night with a hug.
“See you next weekend, Liam!”
“Absolutely,” I said, gritting my teeth.
I said, “Rachel, we need to talk. Right now,” as soon as Heather had gone.
I played the video without giving any explanation, and my wife joined me in the study.
As the reality was revealed on film, her face fell apart.
“Oh God. Liam, I had no idea.”
“Your daughter has been stealing from us for months.”
“There has to be an explanation.”
“She manipulated Mason and Ellie. Made them feel complicit.”
Rachel’s hands were shaking. “I’ll talk to her. Make her pay it back.”
“This isn’t about money anymore.”
“Then what?”
“She terrified our children. Made them lie to me.”
Rachel broke down in tears. “She’s going through a rough patch. Lost her job last month.”
“So she decided to rob us blind?”
“I’ll fix this. I promise.”
However, I saw it in her eyes. She was already apologising.
The next night, I went straight up to Heather. I played the garage video on my phone and invited her over for supper once more.
Her face turned completely white.
“Care to explain this?”
For a long time, she gazed at the screen. then gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Maybe the kids told me to take that money. How would I know where they’d hidden it?”
“They’re seven and nine years old.”
“They said it was okay to take it!”
“Because you told them it was for surprises!”
“I never said that.”
“Are you calling my children liars?”
She got to her feet suddenly. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
“Sit down. We’re not finished.”
“Yes, we are.”
From the staircase, Mason and Ellie had been listening. With tears running down their cheeks, they slipped into the chamber.
“We’re sorry, Daddy,” Ellie called out in tears. “We didn’t mean to be bad.”
Mason murmured, “Heather said it was a secret game,”
Heather’s eyes were icy as she gazed at them. “I never said any of that.”
“Yes, you did!” exclaimed Ellie. “You said Daddy would be mad if we told!”
At last, the mask came off, revealing Heather’s actual personality.
“Rachel, take your daughter home. Now.”
“Liam, please. Let’s talk about this calmly.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. She stole from us. Lied to my kids. Made them accomplices.”
“She’s family!”
“Then what about my children? Your daughter’s a thief.”
Rachel’s hands were shaking as she picked up her purse. “This isn’t over.”
“Yes, it is.”
I kept Mason and Ellie close to me on the couch after they went.
Whispering, “None of this was your fault,” I said. “You were trying to help. That makes you good kids.”
Mason questioned, “Are we in trouble?”
“Never. I’m proud of you for telling me the truth.”
Ellie was worried, “Will Heather come back?”
“Not if I can help it.”
I tucked them in with extra kisses and stories that night.
I assured each of them, “Daddy loves you more than anything in the world,”
I relayed everything to my lawyer over the phone on Monday morning. The pilfering. The deception. and Rachel’s unwillingness to keep my kids safe.
“You have grounds for divorce,” he said. “Document everything.”
“Already done.”
That afternoon, I filed the paperwork. By Thursday, Rachel had them.
She called right away. “You can’t be serious about this.”
“Dead serious.”
“Over one mistake?”
“Your daughter has been stealing from us for months. That’s not one mistake.”
“I’ll make her pay every penny back!”
“What about apologising to Mason and Ellie?”
On the other end, there was silence.
“Rachel? Are you there?”
“She shouldn’t have to apologise. They’re kids. They’ll forget about it.”
I was certain at that point. Heather was always Rachel’s first choice over my kids.
“The papers are filed. This marriage is over.”
“I’m begging you. Don’t do this to us.”
“You did this to us the moment you defended her.”
Three months later, the divorce was finalised. At first, Rachel resisted. hired a costly attorney. requested shared custody of my biological children and alimony.
“She never formally adopted them,” my lawyer assured me, “so she has no legal claim to them.”
We relocated across town to a smaller home. A new beginning for all three of us. Ellie and Mason fared better than anticipated.
“I like our new house, Daddy,” Ellie declared one night.
“Yeah? What do you like about it?”
“It feels safe.”
Mason gave a nod of assent. “Nobody here will lie to us.”
“That’s right, buddy. This is our safe space.”
After six months, they are doing well. Mason enrolled in the town’s tiny karate school, Little League. Ellie is enrolled in painting classes. I tell them one thing every night before they go to bed: “You never have to be afraid in your own home. Ever.”
Ellie drew me a picture last week. Three stick figures are holding hands. A home adorned with hearts. She used a purple crayon to write “SAFE” at the bottom.
I immediately hung it on the refrigerator.
Making the most difficult decision is sometimes necessary for love. I didn’t stop love Rachel, so I didn’t get a divorce. Someone had to pick my children, so I got a divorce.
And I had to be that someone.
