At 2:47 in the morning, the phone broke the quiet of my room. I had learned over thirty-five years of working in criminal investigations that no call at that hour ever offers good news. I fished around in the dark until I discovered the cell phone. The screen lit up my face in a harsh way.
Ethan was the one. My sixteen-year-old grandson was the only one who still called me Grandma without anyone telling him to.
“Grandma.” His voice shook and broke as he cried. “I’m at the police station.” Chelsea hit me with a candlestick. There is blood on my eyebrow. But she says I attacked her and shoved her down the stairs. Dad doesn’t trust me. “Grandma, he doesn’t believe me.”
My lungs were empty. I stood up in bed, and my bare feet slapped the cold floor. Ethan’s words kept bouncing about in my head like stray bullets.
Chelsea. The wife of my son. The lady who, in five years, had done what I believed was impossible: making Rob a stranger to his own mother.
“Take it easy, darling. What station are you at?”
“The one in Greenwich Village.” I’m terrified, Grandma. An cop says, “If a responsible adult doesn’t come, they’re moving me to—”
“Don’t say another word,” I said, already rising up and shaking as I reached for my clothes. “I’m coming. Don’t talk to anyone until I get there. Got it?“
“Yes, Grandma.”
The line went silent. I stood in the middle of my bedroom, phone in hand like a lifeline, and looked at myself in the closet mirror. A woman who was sixty-eight years old, had messy gray hair, and heavy circles under her eyes glanced back at me.
But I didn’t see an old woman who was scared. I saw Commander Elellanena Stone, the woman who had been a criminal investigator for 35 years, who had questioned murderers and drug traffickers, and who had solved cases that had made even the most experienced detectives give up.
For the first time in eight years since I retired, I felt that lady coming back to life inside me.
I put on black pants, a gray sweater, and comfortable boots in less than five minutes. I unlocked my dresser drawer and took out my old commander badge almost without thinking. I put it in my back pocket, not sure if it would help, but I knew I would need every edge I could get tonight.
It was that deep silence that only happens in the early morning hours that covered the city. I waved down a taxi on the main street, told the driver where I was going, and begged him to hurry. I could only think of Ethan as skyscrapers blurred by the window. His broken voice and those awful words.
“My dad doesn’t believe me.”
Rob. My boy. The youngster I had raised by myself when his father left us when he was three years old. The man to whom I had given everything: my education, my principles, and my love without conditions. The same man who five years ago stopped coming over, stopped calling, and acted like I didn’t exist.
Because of Chelsea.
He met her at a casino where she worked as a dealer. He was quite sad because he had just lost his wife, Ethan’s mother. Chelsea looked like a saving angel: young, attractive, caring, and too perfect.
From the start, I could see right through her. I could tell that she was looking at Rob not with affection but with calculating, like someone who was thinking about how much money they could make by investing. But Rob was blind and anxious to replace the hole his wife’s death had left. Chelsea understood exactly how to take advantage of that emptiness.
She seeded seeds of mistrust slowly and carefully.
“Honey, your mother is very controlling. She never lets you choose for yourself. “She always judges you, which makes you feel like you’re not good enough.”
Rob stood up for me at first. But poison, when given drop by drop, will eventually make even the cleanest water unsafe. Visits become less often. Calls got shorter and more tense. People forgot about their birthdays. Christmas came with made-up reasons.
He just stopped reaching out one day.
Ethan was the only one who stayed in touch. He would find ways to sneak away for a few hours to see me on weekends when he was meant to be with his father. He brought me pictures from school, told me about his worries, and held me like my arms were the last safe place he had left in the world.
Like a fool, I assumed things would get better. I thought Rob would come to his senses and that time would bring him back.
How incorrect I was.
The taxi halted in front of the precinct, which was a gray, two-story building with lights shining against the dark sky. I paid the driver and got out. My legs were shaking, but not because I was scared; I was angry.
The desk officer, a young man in his twenties, looked up when I walked in.
“Good evening.” How may I be of service?”
“I’m here to see Ethan Stone.” My grandson. He called me thirty minutes ago.
The officer looked over his papers. “Oh yes, the case of domestic violence. You’re his grandma?”
“Elellanena Stone.”
When he heard my name, his face altered. He looked at me more carefully, as if he were trying to recollect a face he had seen before.
“Stone? Like Commander Stone?”
I took out my old badge and put it on the desk. The officer’s eyes got bigger as he looked at it, and his whole attitude changed. He got up right away.
“Commander, oh my God. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were family. Please, let me take you back.
“Where is my grandson?””
“In the waiting room with his parents and the person who complained.” Captain Spencer is in charge of the case.
“Spencer?””The name made me think. “Charles Spencer?””
He used to work for me as a subordinate years ago. He was a decent officer who was smart and fair.
“Bring me to him.”
The cop took me down a hallway I knew very well. I had walked these floors hundreds of times in my job. I believed I had left behind a life that came back to me in every corner, door, and crack in the wall.
But that night, I learned something important: you never stop being yourself. You act like you forgot.
We got to the waiting area, and in that frigid room lit by harsh fluorescent lights, I saw the scene that would change everything.
Ethan was sitting on a plastic chair with a bandage on his right eyebrow that was too big. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. He jumped up when he spotted me.
“Grandma!””
He went up to me and hugged me around the waist as he used to when he was a kid. I could feel his body shaking against mine. I touched his hair and said softly, “I’m here, sweetie.” “I’m here.”
But I had already seen the other two people in that room.
Rob stood with his arms folded and his jaw set against the wall. I couldn’t quite figure out what he was feeling as he looked at me. It was a mix of shame, wrath, and remorse.
Chelsea was sitting next to him with her legs crossed in a graceful way and a properly rehearsed victim’s face. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed since she was wearing a satin robe that was the color of wine. There was a new bruise on her left arm. Her brown hair fell in lovely waves over her shoulders. Those big, watery eyes looked at me as if to say, “Look what your grandson did to me.”
But I understood what that look meant. I had seen it on scores of criminals who tried to trick me during my career—the look of someone who is good at performing and understands how to manage a room.
“Elellanena.” Rob’s voice was flat and dry. “You didn’t have to come.”
Those five words hurt more than any blow to the body could have.
Before I could say anything, a man in his forties came out of an office door. He was wearing a perfect uniform and had a serious look on his face.
Captain Spencer Charles.
He paused when he spotted me. “Commander Stone.”
“Hey, Charles.” “It’s been a while.”
He came up to me, visibly shocked. “I didn’t know you were a part of this case.” If I had—
“Now you know,” I said. “And I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on here.”
Spencer brought me to his office. Ethan came with me and held my hand tightly, as if he was scared I would go. Rob and Chelsea stayed in the waiting room. I could feel my son staring at me from behind, but I didn’t turn around.
Spencer’s office was modest but tidy. There was a metal desk, two seats, a filing cabinet in the corner, and a crucifix on the wall. Things hadn’t altered much since I was there. The smell of old coffee and paper was even familiar.
“Please sit down,” Spencer urged as he closed the door.
I sat down on one of the chairs with Ethan next to me. Spencer sat across from us and opened a folder. He sighed before he spoke.
“Commander, things are complicated.”
“Tell me the facts,” I said without wasting time. “Her version first.”
Spencer nodded and looked at his notes. “Ms. At 11:43 PM, Chelsea Brooks filed the complaint. She came with your son Robert, who is her spouse. She says that Ethan, who is a minor, came home after curfew at about 10:30 PM. He got angry when she yelled at him—he pushed her down the stairs and hit her arm. She has injuries that back up her story in part.
Every syllable felt like a needle going through my chest. I looked at Ethan. He kept his head down and his hands shook in his lap.
“And what about my grandson’s version?I questioned, but Spencer’s tone made it clear that no one believed the boy.
“The youngster says that Ms. Brooks hit him first. He adds that when he got home, she was already upset and waiting for him in the living room. She hit him with a rough item without warning. He says it was a silver candelabra. Three stitches were needed to close the cut on his eyebrow.
“Did you look for the candlestick?””
Spencer shook his head in an uncomfortable way. “Ms. Brooks adds that the youngster made up the narrative to explain his violent behavior. The trouble is that the house security cameras weren’t working that night, Commander. “Just that night.”
I leaned back and thought about what I had learned. There was no way this could have happened by chance. None of it was.
I whispered, “How convenient.”
I knew that look well: Spencer looked at me like he knew something was wrong but didn’t have any proof to do anything about it.
“The husband said the cameras had been broken for three days.” They were going to call a technician this week.
“Neighbors’ cameras? Cameras on the street?”
“We’re looking over them, but the house is in a private neighborhood.” There are no public cameras nearby.
No way. Chelsea had planned this just precisely. Every little thing, every step. This wasn’t a brief loss of control; it was planned.
I turned to Ethan and put my palm over his. “Look at me, son.”
He slowly looked up, scared and ashamed.
“Start from the beginning and tell me everything.” “Don’t keep anything from me.”
Ethan gulped hard, looked at Spencer, and then back at me. “I was late because I stayed at a friend’s house to study.” On Monday, I have a math test. I came home at 10:15. Not too late. But when I opened the door, Chelsea was in the living room with all the lights out save for the kitchen.
His voice started to break, but he kept going. She said, “You’re late, you rude brat.” I told her I had texted Dad. She chuckled and showed me Dad’s phone, which she had. Dad was sleeping. Then she said, “Your dad doesn’t care about you.” No one cares about you. “You’re just a burden in this house.”
He started to cry. “Grandma, I just wanted to go to my room.” I promise. But she pulled me back by the arm. I tried to get away, but she smacked me here with the candlestick off the table.
He pointed to the bandage on his eyebrow.
“Everything turned. I slid down. And while I was lying there bleeding, she struck herself against the wall and earned herself those marks. I watched her do it, Grandma. “I saw her.”
“Where was your dad?””
“Sleeping in his room.” She had handed him chamomile tea because he said he was stressed. When he heard the noise and came down, everything was already set up. “Chelsea was crying and saying I had hurt her.” Dad didn’t even want to know what occurred. He yelled that I was a disgrace and phoned the cops.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. It was like fire in my chest that made me angry.
“And the candle holder?”
“She put it away before Dad got there.” I don’t know where.
I opened my eyes and looked Spencer right in the eye. “Charles, you knew my work for twenty years. Did you ever see me make an innocent person suffer for something they didn’t do?”
“Never, Commander.”
“My grandson is telling the truth.” And I will show you.
Spencer used both hands to rub his face. “Elellanena, the law says I can’t do anything. It’s one child’s word against two adults’. The dad agrees with what his wife says. I don’t have any physical proof that their story is wrong. I can only let him go into your temporary care while the investigation goes on. But I need you to sign as the person in charge.
“Do it.” I’ll be in charge.
While I watched Ethan, Spencer started filling out forms. That boy has changed a lot in the last year. He was almost a man at sixteen. But at that moment, sitting in that chair with a split eyebrow and puffy eyes, he was once again the seven-year-old who grieved in my arms when his mother died.
“How long has this been going on, Ethan?”I asked gently.
He looked down. “What, Grandma?””
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking.”
A long silence. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking. Finally, Ethan whispered so quietly that I could barely hear him. “Six months.”
“What happened six months ago?””
“First it was insults.” She then began to smash my stuff, such my game console, notebooks, and a soccer trophy you gave me. She acknowledged those were mistakes. Dad trusted her. Then she began to strike me. Slaps and pushes. She put me in the basement all afternoon because I told her I wanted to see you.
My heart broke into a thousand pieces.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”“
“I was afraid Dad would be madder at you if I told you.” I thought that if I could stand it a little longer, things might get better. But tonight was not the same. Grandma, I saw something in her eyes. I understood that she wanted me to leave. She wants to keep me away from you. She wants Dad to think of me as a problem too.
Spencer finished the forms and gave them to me. I signed without reading it because I trusted him. Then he got up.
“I’m going to call your son to get the minor’s release signed. “Stay here.”
He went home from work. It was just Ethan and me. I gripped him closer this time, and I could feel his body relax against mine. It was like he could finally breathe again.
“Please forgive me, sweetheart.” I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.
“Grandma, it’s not your fault.” Dad didn’t want to see.
He was correct. But that didn’t help the pain much.
The door swung open. Rob came in by himself and didn’t look at me. He stepped up to the desk, took the pen Spencer gave him, and signed the papers with rapid, jerky movements, as if every second in there hurt him.
He said, “That’s it,” in a short way. “May I go?”“
I said, “Rob,” and stood up. “We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” He still wouldn’t look me in the eye. “You made your choice.” You believed him instead of my wife.
“Your wife? What about your boy? When did you stop caring about your own child?”
Finally, he looked at me, and the look in his eyes made my blood run cold. There was no love. No shame. Just emptiness—a void I didn’t know about.
“My son hit my wife. The proof is there. Chelsea has cuts and bruises. He has a history of acting badly at school.
“What history?””Ethan blew up. “That’s not true! I’ve never had any trouble at school!”
“You were suspended last week for getting into a fight with a classmate.”
“Because that classmate was bothering a girl!” He was picking on her, and I stood up for her! After talking to witnesses, the principal congratulated me!”
Rob didn’t say anything. He just turned around and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him with a boom that resonated in the small room.
I stood there, seeing all the hope I had for bringing my son back turn to dust.
Spencer put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Elellanena.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said, wiping away a tear that had slipped out without permission. “He made his choice.” Now it’s my turn to make my.
I held Ethan’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”
We left the precinct early in the morning when it was freezing. Rob and Chelsea had already left. I stood for a moment on the vacant street, where the streetlights cast an orange glow. Ethan glanced at me like he didn’t understand.
“Grandma, what are we going to do?””
I glanced into his eyes, which were very much like his mother’s. Nice eyes. Noble. Not able to lie.
“We’re going to show you the truth, sweetheart.” And we’re going to make her pay for every tear she made you cry. Chelsea made a big error tonight. She messed with my grandson. And no one, not even one person, damages my family without getting wounded back.
Elellanena Stone was back in charge. And this time, I couldn’t be stopped by retirement.
We got to my flat just as the sun was starting to come up between the towers. Ethan came next to me without saying a word, dragging his feet because he was tired and in pain. I resided in a little walk-up on the third story of a building in Greenwich Village that I had bought with my life savings. It wasn’t fancy, but it was mine.
I opened the door and turned on the lights. We were met by the smell of coffee and cinnamon, which was familiar to us. I usually kept a cinnamon stick on the stove to make the house smell like home.
I told Ethan to “sit on the couch.” “I’m cooking you something to eat.”
“Grandma, I’m not hungry.”
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry.” I told you I was going to make you something.
He forced a feeble smile and fell onto the brown fabric sofa, which was old but comfy and had been bought at a secondhand market fifteen years earlier.
I walked to the kitchen and heated up milk to make two cups of hot chocolate, just like my mom had shown me to do when I was a kid. I cut a piece of the chocolate chip cake I bought yesterday from the bakery two blocks away.
I brought everything back on a tray. Ethan held the cup in his palms and sipped it, closed his eyes to enjoy it. He seemed like he had forgotten everything that had transpired for a while.
“Thanks, Grandma.”
“Take your time eating. So I’ll give you something to help with the pain.
I sat next to him and quietly drank my chocolate. The city was waking up outside. First, trucks drove by, then the bagel vendor’s whistle on the corner, and finally the neighbor’s dog barked on the second floor.
“Can I stay with you, Grandma?” Ethan said after a while.”
“Of course.” As long as you need.
“No, I mean forever. I don’t want to go back to that house. “Not with her there.”
I put my cup down on the coffee table and stared him straight in the eye. “Ethan, your father has legal custody. Until the case is over, I can only have you for a short time. We need to do this right, with attorneys and judges, if you want to stay with me for good.
“But Dad will never agree.”
“We won’t know until we try.”
He shook his head. “He does what Chelsea tells him to do. Dad seems like a different person after he got married. I heard something a week ago.”
“What did you hear?””
Ethan spoke more quietly, as if someone may hear us. “They were in their room.” I was heading to the bathroom and walked by their door, which was slightly open. Someone was on the phone with Chelsea. She told him, “Don’t worry.” Everything is going as planned. Rob will get the house when the old lady dies. It will sell for at least four and a half million dollars. With that and what I’ve already saved, we’ll be moving to Miami. We will finally be able to open the hotel we have always wanted. And the kid? We’ll send him to a military boarding school in San Diego. “Let someone else handle him.”
My blood boiled.
“Are you sure about what you heard?””
“Absolutely sure, Grandma. That’s why I knew it was part of her plan when I got home late that night and she assaulted me. She wants to get me away from you. She wants you to think of me as a problem. She wants Dad to think of me that way too. And once I’m out of the way, all I have to do is wait for you to—
He didn’t finish what he was saying. He didn’t have to. Chelsea was planning my death or at least looking forward to it. And in the meantime, she was breaking any connection between my son and me and Ethan and his father.
“Did you tell your dad?””
“I tried. I told Chelsea what I had heard the next day when she went to the salon. Do you know what he said? That I was lying because I couldn’t accept that he had moved on with his life. That I was a bitter teen trying to make her appear terrible.
I felt so helpless that it was devastating. My own son, the boy I had taught to be honest and fair, was entirely blind.
“Ethan, you’re not making anything up.” And I believe all you say.
He put his head on my shoulder and groaned. “Grandma, why does she hate us so much?””
“People like Chelsea don’t hate because they want to; they hate because they want to. You and I are in her way of getting what she wants.
“And what does she want?””
“Cash. Strength. A life of ease without having to work for it.
I stopped talking and thought. Things were starting to make sense. Chelsea told Rob that she came from a rich family in Dallas, went to private schools, and worked as a dealer because she liked the thrill, not because she had to. But we had never met her family. No family members came to the wedding. When I approached Rob about it, he stated Chelsea’s parents weren’t talking to her because of personal concerns.
What a great idea.
“Hey Ethan, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything, Grandma.”
“Get your phone out.” Please show me the pictures of the bruises you talked about before.
He took his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and opened his gallery. He showed me a secret folder with at least twenty pictures of bruises on his arms, back, and legs. All of them are new and have a date on them.
“Why didn’t you ever show me these?”“
“Because I was scared Dad would blame you if I did something.” Chelsea always complains that you’re making me hate them.
“Please send me all of these pictures. Now.
Ethan did what he was told. As pictures came in, my phone started to vibrate. Each picture was proof. No one had heard the whispered cries for aid in every mark until now.
“Now you need to sleep,” I said. “You need to rest since your eyebrow is swollen. Go ahead and use my room. “I’m going to stay on the couch.”
“But Grandma—”
“No fighting. “Go to bed.”
He rose up, kissed my forehead, and went to my room. I heard the door close quietly.
I was still alone in the living room with my phone in my hand, and Ethan’s battered body filled the screen. After that, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I unlocked a drawer in the living room cabinet and took out an old leather-bound notebook. It was my investigative notebook from when I was in the military. There were phone numbers, contacts, and notes from prior cases within.
I looked for a name: Linda Davis.
Linda had been my companion in criminal investigations for eleven years. She was younger than me but just as determined. She worked for a few more years after I retired before starting her own private investigative business.
I called her. She answered after it rung four times.
“Hello?”Her voice was hoarse and drowsy.
“Linda, it’s Elellanena Stone.”
There was silence, then a sigh. “Commander, I haven’t heard from you in a long time. What time is it?”
“6:30 AM.” I’m sorry to wake you up, but I need your aid. “It’s important.”
“Tell me.”
I told her everything, from Ethan’s call to what I knew about Chelsea’s plans, the pictures, the injuries, the precinct, and Rob’s betrayal. Linda gave out a deep whistle when I was done.
“Commander, that woman is a professional.” What you’re talking about isn’t just a mean stepmother. “It’s a con artist, and a good one at that.”
“I thought that too.” I need to look into her. “Full name, date of birth, and anything else you can find.”
“Chelsea Brooks. I don’t know what her middle name is. When Rob met her, he said she was thirty-two years old. Five years ago, they got married.
“That’s enough for me.” Please give me two days. I’ll look into her past, including her marriages and money problems. “I’ll find it if she has something to hide.”
“Thanks, Linda.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This will be hard labor. And if we find something huge, we can’t just mean well.
We hung up the phone. I looked at my phone, then around my modest living room, which had ancient furniture, pictures on the walls, and a cross over the door.
This house wasn’t worth four and a half million dollars in cash. But it was worth a lot more than that. It was worth every drop of sweat I lost working two shifts to buy it. Every sacrifice, every sleepless night, and every moment of loneliness were worth it.
Chelsea believed she could just handle it. She felt she could control my son, hurt my grandchild, and wait for me to die like someone waiting for a cheque.
I got up and walked to the window. The sky outside was a mix of orange and pink. It was the start of a new day. And my fight began.
Because Chelsea was missing an important piece of information. I wasn’t an old lady who couldn’t defend herself and was waiting to die. I was Elellanena Stone, the former head of criminal investigations. I had dealt with drug dealers, murders, and all kinds of criminals.
And none of them were able to beat me.
Chelsea had just started a war. And I was going to make sure she lost it.
Linda showed up at my door two days later at nine in the morning with a big folder and a look on her face that I knew well: the look of someone who had just found something awful.
“Commander, you need to sit down before I show you this.”
While Ethan took a shower, I made coffee. He had been with me for those two days, getting well. The swelling on his eyebrow had gone down, but the scar would always be there as a reminder of how vicious Chelsea was.
We were at the table to eat. Linda opened the folder and started taking out papers, pictures, and screenshots.
Vanessa Jimenez Ruiz was born in Houston, Texas, and later changed her name to Chelsea Brooks. She told your son she was thirty-two, but she’s really thirty-four. Confirmed first lie. She never went to private schools and graduated from public high school with no college record. She worked as a waiter, a publicist, and finally as a dealer at many casinos across the country.
Linda put a picture on the table. It was of Chelsea, but she looked younger, maybe twenty-three, with an older man who looked to be around sixty at what looked like a wedding.
Linda said, “Her first marriage.” “She married Richard Miller, who owned a series of hardware stores in San Diego, when she was twenty-four. He is a widower with two grown children. The marriage lasted for two years. Richard had a heart attack and died. Chelsea got property worth $2.8 million. The kids tried to fight the will, but they couldn’t. “Everything was legal.”
“What happened to the kids?””
“One person lives in New York.” The younger daughter, on the other hand, filed a complaint against Chelsea for making threats but dropped it a week later. She hung up when I found her and asked about it. I called her back and she warned, “That woman is dangerous.” “I don’t want to know anything about her or her cursed money.”
I felt a chill run down my spine.
Linda put down another picture: Chelsea with another older man at another wedding.
“Second marriage.” Franklin Adams is a textile businessman in Dallas. Fifty-eight, and he is also a widower. Chelsea was twenty-seven when they got married. The couple was married for 18 months. Franklin fell at home and went into a coma. Three weeks later, he died. Chelsea sold the business and the house. Estimated profit: $3.2 million.
“Did anyone look into the fall?”“
“Yes, but I didn’t find anything strange. Franklin had been drinking and fell down the stairs, according to Chelsea. There were no witnesses. The security cameras in the house weren’t working.
I looked up quickly. “Broken?”
“Same as your son’s house now, Commander. Same pattern.”
My heart pounded so fiercely I could hear it in my ears.
“Is there more?””
Linda nodded and pulled out a third set of documents. “Third marriage. Joseph Vega is a retired civil engineer who lives in San Diego. Sixty-two, widower. When Chelsea was 30, they got married. This marriage didn’t end the same way. Joseph didn’t die, but his son Paul Vega, who was 26 years old, went missing six months after the wedding.
“Disappeared?””
“Really. He left his residence one night and never came back. He sent a text claiming he needed time to ponder and that he was going abroad. We haven’t heard from him in four years. Joseph tried to look for something but gave up in the end. He became quite depressed and signed papers handing Chelsea control over his money. She put him in a nursing facility and sold all of his things. Expected profit: $4 million.
I put my hands over my face. This was worse than I thought it would be.
“Do you think that boy, Paul—?”
Linda responded slowly, “I don’t know what happened to him, Commander.” “But the pattern is clear.” Chelsea goes after older men, specifically widowers with kids. She marries them, and somehow those kids wind up being taken away. Gone, dead, or scared. After that, she keeps the money. Now she is with your son. Rob is an ideal match: he’s a young widower with a teenage son and a mother who owns property in her name. She can’t affect you directly while you’re alive, but she can make your son inherit and then get him to sell.
I said, “That’s why she wants Ethan gone,” and the truth became clear. “He’s a problem.” If something happened to Rob, he would be the rightful successor. And he is smart enough to see through her.
“That’s right. That’s why she’s making him look like a bad kid. If his father sends him to juvenile imprisonment or lawfully kicks him out, the way is clear.
Linda took out another piece of paper. “There’s more.” Chelsea has a partner in crime: a lawyer named Gerald Hayes. He was in charge of the legal parts of all three of his previous marriages, such as wills, powers of attorney, and selling property. He and Chelsea split the profits evenly.
“Do you have proof?””
“Transfers of money that seem suspicious, always following an inheritance. A lot of money was split up into accounts in the Cayman Islands. Not enough proof for a court, but enough to initiate a formal investigation.
I heard the door to the bathroom open. Ethan came out with wet hair and the clean clothing I had given him. He paused when he saw Linda.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Ethan. I’m Linda, and I’m a friend of your grandmother.
He walked over slowly, noticing the papers on the table. “Is that about Chelsea?””
I turned to Linda. She gave a small nod. I thought Ethan should know the truth.
“Sit down, son.”
I told him everything: every marriage, every death that seemed strange, and every person who went missing. I saw his face becoming paler with each new piece of information. His hands were shaking when I was done.
He murmured, “So she killed those people.”
Linda remarked, “We don’t know for sure.” “But the pattern is too consistent to be a coincidence.”
“And I’m next,” Ethan added in a low voice. “She wants me to go away like Paul.”
I took his hand and said firmly, “That’s not going to happen.” “Because we know who she is now.” And we’re going to stop her.
“How?Ethan asked, “What?” “Dad won’t believe us.” He believes you only want to break them up.
“I don’t need your dad to believe me,” I said. “I need proof—proof that he and no judge can ignore.”
Linda slumped back in her seat. “Commander, what are you thinking?””
“I think Chelsea is brilliant, but not as smart as she thinks she is. That night, she was wrong to assault Ethan. She was too sure of herself. She believed her word and phony bruises would be enough, but she didn’t tie up all the loose ends.
“Like what?””
“The candle holder. Ethan claims she put it away. It had to be in that house with her fingerprints and maybe even Ethan’s blood. “That’s proof in the flesh.”
Linda said, “But we can’t search without a warrant.”
I grinned a little. “No, but Ethan can.” That residence is still his home in the eyes of the law. “He has the right to get his stuff back.”
Ethan stared at me with wide eyes. “Do you want me to go back?””
“Just for a few hours, with a reason. You say you need your school supplies and clothes. You look for the candlestick while you’re there. But you’re not going by yourself.
“What do you mean?””
I took out my phone and showed them an app. “Spy cameras.” About the size of a button. They can be stitched into clothes and provide live video to a phone.
Linda smiled. “Commander, you still have it.”
“I never lost it.” It was just asleep.
We spent the remainder of the morning going over every detail. Linda would get the cameras for spying. I would call Rob to set up a time for Ethan to get his stuff. We would be outside documenting every second while Ethan was inside.
But there was a chance. Chelsea could do something if she thought something was wrong—hurt Ethan again or worse.
Ethan said, “Grandma,” sensing my worry, “I want to do this.” I have to. Not just for myself, but for Paul, the other kids, and everyone else she injured.
I gazed straight into his eyes. He wasn’t the scared child he had been two nights before. Something had changed: fear had turned into determination.
“Okay. But we do precisely what I say. No making things up. You should leave right away if you feel in danger. Got it?”
“Got it.”
I called Rob that afternoon. He picked up on the third ring.
“What do you want, Mom?””
“Ethan needs his school supplies and clothes. He’ll come over tomorrow to get them. I hope that’s not an issue.
A long silence. “Is he coming by himself?””
“Yes. Isn’t it his residence too? That’s what you used to say, anyway.
“Okay. But tell him to hurry. Chelsea doesn’t want to see him.
“Don’t worry.” It won’t take long.
I hung up before he could say anything.
Linda came that night with the cameras, which were so little they appeared like regular buttons. We sewed one onto Ethan’s chest and one onto his shoulder. We could view everything the cameras saw from my phone.
I said, “Tomorrow at three.” “Chelsea will be home because she doesn’t work on Tuesdays.” Rob will be at work. “It’s the right time.”
Ethan nodded, and although though I observed his hands shaking a little during supper, he seemed calm.
I went to his room that night before bed. He laid there and stared at the ceiling.
“Can’t sleep?””
“I am scared, Grandma,” he said. “Not of Chelsea.” I’m worried about what we’ll find. Of verifying Dad is with a killer.”
I sat on the bed’s edge and touched his hair. “Whatever we find tomorrow, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone, Ethan. You never will be as long as I’m alive.”
“I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you too, my dear.” More than words can say.
He shut his eyes and finally fell asleep. I stayed a little longer to watch him breathe peacefully and thought about all the hazards he would face the next day.
I also thought of something else: Chelsea didn’t give this family enough credit. She had not given enough credit to a brave youngster who would not be another victim. And she didn’t give enough credit to a grandma who had spent her whole life hunting down crooks.
The snake would expose her teeth tomorrow. But we already had the cure.
Ethan stopped in front of my living room mirror the next day at 2:45 to check his clothes. You couldn’t see the button cameras with your bare eyes. I checked my phone’s transmission for the tenth time.
“Clear audio, clear video,” I said. “Are you ready?”“
Ethan took a big breath. “Ready.”
Linda waited in her car outside, half a block from Rob’s house, which was our backup. We would step in right away if anything went wrong.
“Remember,” I continued, putting my hands on his shoulders, “walk in, say hello to them like you normally would, go to your room, and pack your things. While you’re there, watch. If you see the candlestick or anything else that could be evidence, write it down but don’t touch it. We don’t want her to say you stole something. Got it?”
“Got it.” And if she gets angry, I leave right away.
I gave him a big hug. He smelt like soap, dread, and courage.
Linda said from the door, “Let’s go.”
We went down to Linda’s car. I sat in the back with my phone, which showed what Ethan’s cameras saw. Linda drove without saying a word, her knuckles white on the wheel.
We got to the Upper East Side. There were two levels in Rob’s house, and it had a front yard and an automated gate. He had bought it with money from his first wife’s life insurance policy. It was a house that should have been full of good memories, but it had become a prison.
Ethan got out of the car. We saw him walk to the front entrance. The picture on my phone shifted with each step. He rang the doorbell.
The door swung open. Chelsea was wearing black workout trousers and a tight pink shirt. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail. She appeared younger without makeup, but she also looked more calculated. She looked at Ethan like a predator would look at prey.
“You came,” she remarked in a flat voice. “I thought you would back out.”
“I came to get my things.” “Yes,” Dad said.
“Your dad says a lot of things.” Come on in, but be quick. “I don’t have all day.”
Ethan came in. The camera caught everything, from the nicely appointed living room with its marble floors and paintings on the walls. Everything was great, everything was perfect. A front.
“Go to your room.” Chelsea closed the door and said, “You have thirty minutes.”
Ethan went up the stairs. The camera caught every little thing. He got to his room and opened the door.
Seeing what the cameras showed broke my heart.
The room was a total mess. It looked like a cyclone had come through: Ethan’s clothes were all over the floor, pictures were pulled off the walls, his desk was turned over, books were everywhere, and his bed was bare.
Linda muttered, “Oh my God,” when she looked at the screen in the rearview mirror.
I could hear Ethan’s weak voice through the sound. “What happened to my room?””
Chelsea said from downstairs, “Pick up your stuff like the pig you are.” That’s what made your room look like that.
Ethan started to gather clothes and put them in a rucksack. His hands were shaking. The camera caught him stopping in front of a broken picture of him and his mother that was taken a year before she died. The frame was broken. There was a shoe print on the picture.
I saw Ethan gently pick it up, brush off the dust, and put it in his backpack.
I said, “Breathe, son,” even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.
He finished putting his clothing away and then opened the drawer in his desk to look for notebooks.
That’s when I spotted it. Something shone on my phone screen, beneath a stack of ripped notebooks.
“Stop,” I said to myself. “Concentrate on that.”
Ethan pushed the notebooks out of the way, as if he had heard me.
There it was: a heavy, old silver candlestick with dark blotches at the bottom.
Blood.
Linda answered, “He found it.” “That’s our proof.”
Chelsea’s voice came from the stairs. “Are you finished? You’ve been up there for fifteen minutes.
“Almost,” Ethan said, his voice surprisingly steady.
He quickly pulled out his own phone and took a few pictures of the candlestick, his hands shaking. He then closed the drawer and left it where it was.
I whispered, “Good job.”
Ethan left his room with his rucksack on his shoulder and went down the stairs. Chelsea stood at the bottom with her arms folded.
“Is that it?”“
“Yes.”
“Great. Then you can go and not come back.
Ethan whispered softly, “This is my house too.”
Chelsea laughed coldly. “Your house? Your dad owns this house, and I’m his wife. He’s had to deal with you for all these years because you were an accident.
“My mom wasn’t an accident.”
Chelsea’s eyes got very narrow. “Your mother is deceased. And soon your granny will go too. It’s just a matter of time. Women her age don’t live long. When she dies, your father will get that dirty house where she resides. We’ll get rid of it. We’ll leave. And you’ll go to a boarding school where you’ll learn not to be so rude.
Chelsea moved closer to him. The camera properly recorded her face, which was full of rage.
“You didn’t touch me, you little liar.” You hit me, and if you say that lie again, I’ll make sure you stay in juvenile detention.
“I know the truth,” Ethan said. “And so does my grandmother.”
Chelsea said, “Your grandmother is no one.” “She’s an elderly woman who’s done and doesn’t know when to give up. But she’ll figure it out. “Everyone learns in the end.”
At that point, another voice broke in, and it made my world stop.
“What are you two talking about?””
Rob had just walked in through the front door, wearing his office suit and a loose tie. He looked exhausted and older, nothing like the boy I recalled.
“Honey,” Chelsea replied, changing her tone right away, “you’re home early.” Ethan was just about to leave.
Rob gazed back and forth between Chelsea and his kid. His face informed me that he had heard more than she believed he had.
“What was that about a boarding school?””he asked.
Chelsea hastily said, “I was just saying that if he keeps acting up, we’ll have to do something about it.”
Ethan remarked, “She said they’re going to sell Grandma’s house when she dies.” His voice was strong even though he was scared. “She said it exactly as it was.”
Chelsea yelled, “That’s a lie!” “Rob, sweetheart, your son is lying again to get you to hate me.”
Ethan said, “You know I’m not making anything up.”
Rob rubbed his face with his hands, looking like he was about to fall apart.
“Go now, Ethan.”
“Dad, you have to listen—”
“Go!” I said.”
The shout rang out all across the house. Ethan stepped back, hurt. I squeezed my phone so tightly that I believed it might break.
“Okay,” Ethan answered in a hushed voice. “I’m leaving. But you know where to find me when you want to know the truth.
He went outside. The door shut behind him. We could still see Rob and Chelsea in the living room on the TV.
She walked up to him and put her hands on his chest. “Sweetheart, you’re stressed. That kid is making you sick—
Rob interrupted, “I need to be alone,” and pulled away.
He went upstairs without saying anything else. Chelsea stayed there, glancing at her phone with a smile that made my blood run cold. She called a number.
“Hey Gerald, it’s me. We need to get things done faster. The brat is making things hard. I know. Everything will be ready in a week. “She won’t know what hit her,” said the old lady.
When she hung up, I knew we didn’t have much time.
Ethan arrived to the car and sat in the back with me, his eyes full of tears he wouldn’t let fall.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. “I tried.”
I told him not to say sorry and hugged him. “You performed a great job. “We got what we needed.”
Linda started the car, and we drove off. I listened to the recordings on my phone. We had everything: the candlestick, Chelsea’s threats, her admission that she sold my house, and her call with Gerald.
But more crucially, I got the news that devastated my heart: my son was missing.
That night, I sat on my balcony and looked at the city lights. I thought of Rob as a youngster, how he would run to me after work and say, “Mom, I missed you all day.” I remembered the nights I stayed up with him when he had a fever. The times I stood up for him against bullies.
I would have done everything for that child. All of it.
And for what? So a lady might take him from me in less than five years?
I finally cried after holding back emotions for days. I sobbed for my kid who had died, for the years I would never get back, and for the things I would never hear again.
But I also cried because I was so angry. Chelsea didn’t just kidnap my son; she transformed him into a stranger, poisoned him against me, his own kids, and all that was once wonderful in him.
And I couldn’t let that go.
I took a big breath, dried my tears, and made a choice. I was going to have my son back. I didn’t know how or how long it would take.
But I was going to get him away from that woman, even if it meant dying.
Because I was Elellanena Stone. And mothers like me never give up. Never.
But I had to ruin Chelsea before I could get my son back. And for that, I needed more than just records. I needed the perfect trap.
Linda and I worked together over the next few weeks to make a strong case. We found Paul Vega alive in Guatemala. Gerald had intimidated him and sent him away with money and a bogus passport. Patricia Miller said she would speak regarding the strange death of her father. We found bank documents that indicate money moving between Chelsea and Gerald following each inheritance.
We brought Captain Spencer together and showed him everything. He got search warrants. When police searched Rob’s house, they found the candlestick exactly where Ethan had taken a picture of it, with blood from Ethan and fingerprints from Chelsea on it.
I was there the day Chelsea was arrested. While she shouted and cursed, I saw the police handcuff her. I saw Gerald’s resignation as he was taken away in handcuffs.
And I saw my son’s face fall apart as he finally understood what was going on.
Three months later, I was in the courtroom when the judge gave Chelsea fifty-eight years and Gerald twenty-five years. Justice had been done.
After the court hearing, Rob came up to me with tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m very sorry.
For the first time in years, I actually looked at him.
“I know you are, son. But “sorry” doesn’t make up for five years of being left alone. It doesn’t fix you believing a stranger over your own mother. Letting that mother injure your child doesn’t make it better.
“I understand. “I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
“It’s not about deserving,” I murmured softly. “It’s about working for it.” And that will take some time. A long time.
I put my hand on his face. “But you’re my son. And even if you forgot about me, I never forgot about you. So let’s work on healing this together, slowly. If you’re ready to put in the work.
“Anything, Mom.” “Anything.”
It has been two years. Rob went to therapy twice a week to try to figure out how he had been used. He moved into a smaller apartment close to mine. He and Ethan progressively worked on their connection again. It wasn’t easy, but they did their best.
They made me breakfast on my sixty-ninth birthday. We ate together and spoke and laughed like we used to. Ethan gave me a photo album with new memories from the last two years, such the three of us planting a cherry tree in the community garden, Ethan’s high school graduation, and family gatherings.
In Rob’s handwriting on the last page: “Family isn’t just the blood you share.” It’s the love you choose to show every day. Thank you, Mom, for always believing in us. “We love you.”
Rob hugged me on one side and Ethan on the other, and I couldn’t stop crying.
And at that moment, in that tiny kitchen in Greenwich Village, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: total calm.
Life has come full circle. We still had scars, but they had made us stronger. Chelsea sat in her cell, rotting with her stolen years and seething hatred. But I had something she would never have: a family that loved me, a grandchild who looked up to me, and a son who had finally come home.
And that was, without a doubt, the real win.
Because justice is more than just punishment; it’s also about healing. It’s about showing that love can heal even the worst scars. It’s about families that break up and, with time and work, discover how to get back together.
That morning, I sat with my son and grandson, the sun shining through the window and laughing filling the air. I learned the most essential lesson of all: you are always a mother. You never give up. And you never stop believing that love can always find its way home, no matter how hard it is.
