Driving to the hospital, I couldn’t contain my excitement. Balloons bobbed beside me, and I smiled at the thought of reuniting my family. Suzie had endured so much during the pregnancy—she deserved to come home to a nursery filled with love and the dinner I’d prepared. But when I entered her room, I froze. My daughters were sleeping soundly in their bassinets, but Suzie was nowhere to be found. A note lay on the table, its words chilling: “Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.”

Confusion turned to panic. What could my mother have done? Suzie had seemed happy—hadn’t she? I demanded answers from the nurses, but they said she’d checked out that morning, claiming I knew. Trembling, I carried my daughters home, my mind racing.

At the house, my mother Mandy greeted me, beaming and holding a casserole dish. Her joy turned to alarm when I thrust the note at her. “What did you do?” I demanded. She faltered, claiming innocence, but I couldn’t shake my suspicions. My mother had always been critical of Suzie, but had she truly gone so far as to drive her away?

That night, after putting the twins to bed, I searched for answers. In Suzie’s closet, I found a letter from my mother that made my blood run cold: “Suzie, you’ll never be good enough for my son. If you care about them, you’ll leave before you ruin their lives.”