We hired a quiet young nanny to care for my seven-year-old son. She came with glowing references, a calm presence, and a natural way with kids. My son grew attached almost instantly — too attached. He refused to eat unless she fed him and cried whenever she left the room.
At first, I was just grateful he felt safe with her. But one afternoon, while tidying up, I found something that stopped me cold: a laminated photo of my son tucked inside her bag. On the back, in jagged handwriting, were the words: “MY son.” Something about the way it was written felt possessive… obsessive.
Before I could even confront her, I got a call that night from another mother. Her voice trembled as she said, “She tried to take over my life. Claimed my daughter was hers. Tried to move in — even came back after we fired her.” That was all I needed to hear. I called the police.
