ADOn our fifth anniversary, he surprised me with a weekend trip to the cabin where we first met, recreating our entire first date, even the wine we drank.

That was the Ben I knew. Attentive, considerate, and the type of man that remembers the small details.

Sharon, Ben’s mother, had a small stroke few months ago. She has always been kind to me, unlike the usual monster-in-law you read about.Following her recovery, we invited her to live with us so that we could assist with her care. She did not require continual monitoring, but having someone present helped everyone feel safer.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Sharon objected weakly when we proposed the relocation.

“Mom, you’ve taken care of me my whole life,” Ben told her, squeezing her hand. “Let me return the favor.”

Balancing work and caregiving proved tougher than we expected. I worked from home two days a week, and Ben adjusted his showings around our schedule, but there were still gaps when Sharon would be alone.

After a particularly exhausting month, Ben suggested hiring a caregiver.

“Just for the hours when we’re both working,” he explained over dinner one night. “Someone to keep Mom company, help with meals, make sure she takes her medication.”

I sighed with relief. “That sounds great. Should we check into agencies?

Ben shakes his head. “Actually, I believe I have found someone already. “A coworker recommended her.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “That was fast.”

“Her name is Lena.” She is 28 and has already worked with several elderly individuals. His eyes grew brighter as he talked. “She’s quite sweet. She is extremely patient with her clients, almost like a daughter to them. “Mom will adore her.”

Something about his exuberance made me pause, but I dismissed it. Ben has always been passionate about assisting others.

“I met her for coffee yesterday to interview her,” he explained. “She is perfect, Cass. Absolutely perfect.”

“What’s the cost?” I inquired, ever realistic.

Ben cleared his throat. “A thousand a week.”

I almost choked on my wine. “One thousand?” “For part-time care?”

“Quality care is worth the price,” he said. “Mom deserved the finest. And Lena is the finest!”

The next day, Ben brought home a packet with Lena’s “credentials.”

It was a list of unverified references and certifications from programs I had never heard of. I still trusted my husband’s judgment. When he was certain about something, particularly when it came to caring for others, he usually made the correct decision.

“Monday,” Ben smiled. “Cass, you’ll love her. Most significantly, Mom will too.”

I nodded, ignoring the peculiar sensation gathering in my stomach. I wish I had listened to that feeling sooner.

Lena began working five days a week, starting at nine and departing at two.

Something felt strange right away. She was attractive, with shiny brown hair and a smile that seemed to be riveted on her face.

Sharon appeared uneasy around her, although she did not express any objections. I’d catch her staring at Lena with a wrinkled face when she thought no one was looking.

“How’s Lena working out?” I asked Sharon one afternoon, while Lena was in the kitchen.

“She’s attentive,” Sharon said gently. “Very attentive to certain things.”

Before I could inquire what she meant, Lena arrived with tea, and Sharon was silent.

What concerned me the most was Lena’s behavior near Ben. She laughed too loudly at his jokes, stood too near when he spoke, and stroked his arm to emphasize a point.

After two weeks, I discovered Lena lacked appropriate medical training.

She didn’t know how to properly check Sharon’s blood pressure and miscalculated medication times.

She was more of a “helper” than a professional caretaker.

“Did you actually verify her credentials?” I asked Ben one night.

He became immediately defensive. Of course I did. She’s doing an excellent job. “Mom loves her.

“Actually, I’m not certain she does. And Lena doesn’t appear to understand basic parenting skills.”

“You’re overreacting,” he exclaimed. “Not everyone has to do things your way, Cassie.”

I was surprised by his tone. This was not the Ben I knew.

Sharon approached me one evening when Ben was taking a shower. Her fingers gripped my wrist with unexpected strength.

“Cassie,” she asked softly, “would you mind setting up one of those small camera things? I don’t always feel safe when I’m alone. I’m terrified I’ll faint and nobody will notice.”

My heart fell. “Has something happened, Sharon?”

She cast a glance down the hall. “Uh… no… I just want you to assist and watch over me through those cameras. I asked you since I knew Ben isn’t very technical.”

“Of course,” I vowed.

The next day, I installed three discrete nanny cameras. One in the hallway, one in the living room, and another near Sharon’s room. I didn’t tell Benjamin.

Sharon had asked me in secret, and something told me he would not agree.

A few days later, over my lunch hour at work, I started examining the footage. What I witnessed made my stomach flip.

Lena wasn’t doing much to aid Sharon. The cameras showed her spending the majority of her time on her phone or watching television. She would speed Sharon’s workouts, neglect her prescription, and once shouted at her for spilling tea.

But what broke my heart was seeing Ben.

He would “drop by” when I was at work. They would sit close together on the couch, laughing and exchanging intimate touches.

I was devastated, but not totally surprised. Some part of me knew there was something wrong. I remained watching, hoping for an innocent answer, but instead saw more betrayal.

Then followed the exchange that escalated my grief into wrath. Ben and Lena sat on the patio, believing they were out of earshot.

“Soon the beach house will be yours, baby,” Ben told me. “I’ll talk Mom into how much you’ve helped her and how much you deserve to be praised.”

Lena giggled. “And your wife? “What about her?”

Ben shrugged. “Cassie is clueless. “Always has been.”

I did not immediately confront Ben. Instead, I delivered the footage to Sharon. We sat there in her room, looking at the evidence of her son’s betrayal.

“I suspected something,” she said softly, tears flowing down her cheeks. “But not this… not planning to take my property.”

We formed a plan together.

Sharon chose to celebrate her birthday at the beach house that Ben had offered to Lena.

She invited everyone, including Lena, expressing her gratitude and stating that Lena had virtually become a member of the family.

When everyone came, Sharon stood up to toast.

“Dear Lena,” she began, “I’d like to thank you for caring for me. As a token of my appreciation, this beach villa is yours.”

Lena’s eyes shone with delight, and Ben grinned proudly.

Then Sharon’s tone shifted. “Lena, that’s what you dreamt of hearing after having an affair with my son, isn’t it?”

At that time, I stepped forward and showed screenshots from the hidden cameras. There were photographs of Ben and Lena in compromising positions.

I even replayed their chat regarding the beach house for everyone to witness.

Ben was speechless. Lena turned pale and exited the room in tears.

“Mom, Cassie, I can explain,” Ben said.

“Save it,” I replied. “I’ve already called a lawyer.”

The fallout was fast. Ben moved out that night. I’ve filed for divorce. Lena was fired, and Sharon revised her will to ensure that neither Ben nor Lena benefited from her estate.

Throughout this journey, Sharon and I have become closer. We’ve supported one another, finding strength in our unexpected friendship.

“You know what I’ve learned?” Sharon told me lately while we were on the beach home porch. “Trust your intuition. When something feels wrong, it probably is. But also, surround yourself with people who are willing to face the reality with you.

I nodded and watched the sunset.

Sometimes the family you select grows stronger than the one you are given. And sometimes the most painful betrayals bring you to your most loyal allies.