Genevieve’s senses tell her that something is wrong when her ex-husband gives their son a rocking horse. Her fear grows as she begins making strange sounds, culminating in a dreadful discovery. To protect her family at all costs, Genevieve immediately contacted her attorney.

I knew Anthony was up to something when he knocked at my house with a large rocking horse. My ex-husband was never known to behave without explanation, especially when it came to Ethan.

While my blood pressure was rising, he stood there, smiling as if he had just brought Ethan the moon.

Hello, Genevieve. Anthony’s tone was infuriatingly upbeat as he said, “I thought Ethan might enjoy this.” He was always able to keep his genuine objectives hidden beneath that fake charm.

I tried to grin, but it probably looked more like a grimace. “That’s thoughtful of you, Anthony.”

I couldn’t have predicted how much this item would upset my life.

I moved aside to let him in, watching as he carried the big toy into the living room.

“Ethan is in his bedroom,” I explained.

Notifying Anthony twice was unnecessary. He rushed up the steps, saying, “Hey, friend! Please look at the goods that your father has supplied for you.

I scratched my temples and leaned against the doorframe. On several occasions, Anthony sought to entice Ethan’s devotion with lavish presents. It remained constant each time.

My son’s eyes would light up with excitement as he played with the toy. Anthony would then give some unpleasant news, leaving me to deal with the emotional repercussions of his departure.

“Mother!” “Observe the gift that my father has given me!” “Ethan’s voice echoed down the stairs, resonating with excitement.”

A few seconds later, Anthony followed him closely as he dashed into the living room. Ethan was overjoyed, his hands tightly gripping the reins of the horse. I anticipated the ‘bad news’ aspect of the visit and attempted to conceal my smile.

“It is truly remarkable, Father!” “May I ride it at this time?”

“Of course, sport,” Anthony said, toying with Ethan’s hair. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, “for a brief period.” It is already nearing dinnertime. “Remember, Dad is taking you out for pizza?”

“That reminds me.” Anthony gave me a beautiful grin. “I won’t be able to take Ethan out tonight.”

“What?” Ethan stopped rocking to stare at Anthony.

I sighed. Once again, we are at it.

Ethan crouched beside Anthony and apologized, saying, “I’m sorry, bud, but Daddy has to work.” “I’ll make up for it next weekend, promise.”

Ethan’s head dipped down as he sniffled.

“And until then, you can play on your horse, okay?” Anthony continued. “If you use it daily, I’ll provide you with a genuine cowboy hat to wear while you’re riding Patches over here, okay?”

Anthony patted the horse’s neck. Ethan rose from the horse and bobbed his head.

“I’ll ride him every day so you can come visit me, Dad,” Ethan said.

Anthony just brushed Ethan’s hair before heading to the door, producing a tiny pang in my chest. As he raced past me, I reached out my hand and grabbed him by the elbow.

I stated quietly, “Tony, you cannot continue to engage in this behavior.” “Expensive gifts are no substitute for spending time with your child.”

Tony immediately removed his arm from my grip.

“Genevieve, refrain from lecturing me.” In actuality, you should strive to keep a pleasant manner towards me. Or have you missed the fact that my attorneys are fighting the custody agreement?

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.”

He ran outside, flashing me a grin that resembled a grimace. I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d ever be able to co-parent amicably as I watched him go.

“Hey, Ethan, we can still go out for pizza if you want.” As I closed the door, I spoke to my kid.

Ethan said, “Thank you, Mother.”

As Ethan dismounted the horse, I felt an uneasy knot in my gut. I was unable to determine the precise nature of the abnormality, which was separate from Anthony’s usual gibberish.

Ethan couldn’t get away from the rocking horse for the next few days. His laughter filled the home, and he rode his bike whenever he had spare time. It almost drowned out my growing fears. Nearly.

Then the noise began.

Initially, it was just a mild clicking sound, like plastic gears grinding against one another. I dismissed it, figuring it was simply an old mechanism within the toy. However, the sound amplified and became more persistent, making it difficult to ignore.

The clicking was louder than usual that night, as the wind howled outside. The noise was coming from Ethan’s bedroom, where he’d been sleeping for hours.

I sneaked down the corridor, holding a flashlight.

As I pushed open Ethan’s door, I saw the rocking horse moving slightly, which was due to the draft from the open window. The clicking sounds sent a shudder down my spine. I approached it cautiously, determined to eradicate the unpleasant noise.

I kneeled to examine the base. As I turned the horse, the clicking became more intense. My fingertips were contacting an uneven, rigid item. I recoiled and positioned the beam beneath the horse.

That was when I saw a small, secret chamber on the horse’s belly. Given that the toy did not require batteries, what was its function?

I used my fingernails to pry open the compartment door by tugging on its edge.

A substance emerged from the chamber and fell into my hand. I was taken aback at first, but my amazement rapidly turned to awe when I learned the mysterious thing was a little voice recorder.

I stared at it, lost in thought, attempting to decipher its origins, when the realization struck me with a forceful jolt. Anthony.

He wanted to collect evidence against me in order to contest our custody agreement. My rage was unbearable. How could he manipulate our son in this way?

I silently departed Ethan’s room, leaving the horse behind, but kept the voice recorder in my hand.

I was pacing the living room, my thoughts racing, and I could feel tears of frustration spring up. I tried to remember everything I had said near the horse. Could someone alter any of my remarks to portray me as unfit?

My thoughts were a jumbled mess of betrayal, fury, and pain. I was surprised that Anthony would sink to this level.

Our divorce had been nasty, but why include Ethan in this? Even for him, it was a new low. My fingers trembled as I looked at the recorder, and the want to beat it against the wall was almost overwhelming.

However, I needed to respond with intelligence in this situation. I needed direction—someone to reassure me that I wasn’t going to lose my son over this.

I rang my attorney’s phone with shaky palms. She detected the second ring.

“Genevieve?” What’s the matter? Susan’s voice provided comfort and steadiness.

“Susan, you will not believe what Anthony did,” I continued, my voice trembling. “He installed a voice recorder on Ethan’s rocking horse. “He is endeavoring to accumulate evidence against me.

I could hear Susan shuffling papers in the background as she sighed. Genevieve, take a deep breath. This method of gathering evidence renders it inadmissible in court. He’s unable to use it against you.

“Are you sure?” I inquired, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

Susan responded with assurance, “Certainly.” “Remain composed.” If you reveal this information, you will hurt him. What method did you employ to locate it?

I provided a comprehensive account of the situation, including the late-night discovery and the unusual noises.

Susan listened attentively, and upon my conclusion, she expressed her approval with the phrase, “All right.” This is the course of action you will take. You can use this to your advantage. Ensure that the recorder’s contents are unusable. Surrender to him.”

Her words ignited a flame within me.

I was not going to allow Anthony to get away with this.“ Susan, I appreciate your assistance. I will continue from this point.

I lifted the recorder and spoke directly into it, resolute in my determination. “Anthony, did you hear my attorney?” Whatever you are attempting to accomplish will not be successful.

Over the next few hours, I set the trap. I positioned the recorder near the TV, allowing it to record hours of television advertisements and children’s cartoons.

The monotonous, repeated noise would leave him feeling nothing but frustration.

Once I had reached my conclusion, I meticulously reinserted the recorder into the rocking horse, ensuring that it appeared unaltered. The satisfaction of surpassing Anthony was nearly palpable.

Anthony’s visit coincided with the weekend. My stomach was churning with anticipation as I greeted him with forced politeness. As he engaged with Ethan, his eyes frequently shifted to the rocking horse, and I discreetly observed him.

“Ethan, why don’t you show Daddy how you ride your horse?” I proposed; my tone was saccharine sweet.

Ethan eagerly ascended the horse. Anthony’s eyes followed him, and a calculating expression crossed his face.

Anthony discreetly retrieved the device, and I waited with my heart pounding. I couldn’t contain my excitement, imagining his anguish as he listened to the ineffective recordings.

Anthony failed to address the incident for several days. His silence conveyed a tremendous deal. He seemed to know he had lost but was reluctant to admit it. I interpreted his silence as a silent truce, an acknowledgment of defeat.

I experienced an immense sense of relief and triumph. I outwitted my ex-husband and safeguarded my son. This modest yet significant triumph solidified my determination to maintain vigilance.

I would not allow Anthony to surpass me. I refuse to let Anthony overtake me now or in the future.

I discovered that I was smiling in the quiet moments that followed Ethan’s bedtime. The rocking horse, innocently positioned in the house’s corner, was silent.

I had weathered the test and emerged victorious. I was certain that I would repeat the process to ensure my son’s safety and happiness, no matter the cost.

For the sake of creativity, we have fictionalized this work based on actual events and individuals. We have altered names, characters, and specifics to safeguard privacy and enhance the narrative. The author did not intend any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or actual events.

The author and publisher do not guarantee event and character portrayals, nor are they liable for any misunderstandings. The author and publisher present this narrative “as is,” and the characters’ perspectives differ from their own.