His Mistress Killed Our Daughter

Malcolm took my child away six times.

Each time it was because Celia wanted to experience what it felt like to be a mother. After the seventh time, he didn't return her for a long while.

He called me, saying, "They’re twins anyway, two daughters who look exactly alike, so giving Maisy to Celia isn’t a big deal."

Meanwhile, Celia sent me a picture of herself feeding my daughter soda. She also sent a message: "Malcolm said I can just treat her like a toy."

After that, my younger daughter was gone, and Malcolm's hair turned gray overnight. Our seven-year relationship was completely over.

=================================

"Her head is so soft, her hands too," Celia kept texting me, adding, "She’s even more fun than a doll; I can feed her anything I want."

It felt like something snapped in my mind, a buzzing filled my ears. I tried calling her, but she never picked up. I had no choice but to call Malcolm.

My anxiety made me drop the phone repeatedly, silently begging for him to answer quickly. Maisy had just turned a month old; she couldn’t have soda.

Finally, when I got through, Malcolm sounded very impatient. "Is it really necessary to keep calling just because I took Maisy for Celia to see?" he said. "I already explained this. Celia lost a child and just wants the experience of being a mom."

"Malcolm, Celia is giving Maisy soda!" I cried out in distress.

"Please, bring her back; she can't have soda. She's so young."

"What are you talking about?" he snapped back, irritation in his voice.

"I'm right here with Celia; she's feeding Maisy formula milk."

And with that, he hung up on me. My subsequent calls went unanswered; his phone was off.

In utter despair, I held my head and sobbed. This wasn't the first time Celia had taunted me like this. During Malcolm's previous six abductions of Maisy, Celia would deliberately send these messages to provoke me, but then never actually hurt Maisy. This left Malcolm furious at me, claiming I was slandering Celia, insisting she would never harm the child.

But I'm a mother; ignoring such messages is impossible. I feared Celia might one day follow through.

I took a cab to Celia's place, knocking incessantly, pleading for Malcolm to return Maisy to me.

"Emberly, have you lost your mind!" Malcolm shouted as he opened the door, looking at me with sheer indifference.

"I've already explained everything to you. Why are you here at Celia’s house again?"

My heart was filled with sorrow. For every time he took Maisy, I showed up at Celia's door just as many times. Each time, he defended her.

"Malcolm, give me back Maisy, or something awful will happen!" I pleaded, my words coming out jumbled in my distress.

"Fine, I can do that."

Hope flickered with his words, but was immediately crushed when he added, "Apologize to Celia on your knees, then I'll return your child."

My heart sank. I knew he wanted an apology for the last incident when, in my desperation to reclaim my child, I accidentally pushed Celia to the ground and sprained her ankle.

"Alright, I’ll do it," I said.

"As long as you give Maisy back to me."