How I Messed Up My Daughter’s Childhood

Tuesday I confronted her—not about everything, I just tested the waters. I mentioned I’d noticed Arya had been texting someone a lot.

Veronica didn’t miss a hit.

“Oh, probably just her friends. You know how teenage girls are with their phones.”

“My mom said it seemed like an adult. Someone giving her advice.”

Her face stayed perfectly calm.

“That’s concerning. You don’t think she’s talking to strangers online, do you? I’ve heard about predators targeting young girls.”

The irony almost made me laugh. Here she was pretending to be worried about predators while she was grooming my daughter herself.

Wednesday things escalated. I came home to find Veronica going through my desk drawers.

She said she was looking for stamps but I knew better. She was getting suspicious, probably looking for evidence that I was on to her.

That night she was extra affectionate. She made my favorite dinner and wore the perfume I’d complimented once, but I could see the calculation in her eyes.

She was trying to distract me and make me lower my guard. Thursday morning I woke up feeling fuzzy.

I wasn’t sick exactly, just off, like I’d taken cold medicine but wasn’t congested. I stumbled through my morning routine, barely able to focus at work.

I could hardly keep my eyes open during meetings. It happened again Friday and Monday, always after my morning coffee which Veronica lovingly prepared for me every day.

She’d bring it to me in bed, kiss my forehead, and tell me to take my time getting ready. Tuesday I pretended to drink it.

I poured it into a travel mug when she wasn’t looking and took it to a friend who worked at a lab. I asked him to test it and told him I thought someone at work might be messing with me.

The results came back Thursday: sedatives. They were nothing dangerous in small doses, but enough to make someone drowsy, compliant, and less likely to notice things.

She’d been drugging me for weeks. I wanted to call the police right then, but what evidence did I have?

I had some recordings of vague conversations, texts that could be interpreted different ways, and coffee that I’d contaminated by putting it in my own mug. Any decent lawyer would tear it apart.

Friday I made a decision. I told Veronica I had to go out of town for work and would be gone through the weekend.

She seemed pleased, probably thinking she’d have time to work on Arya without me around. Instead, I drove to my mom’s house.

Arya was in her room when I got there. When she saw me, her face went cold.

“What are you doing here?”

she asked, crossing her arms.

“I needed to see you. Make sure you’re okay.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine. Just trapped at Grandma’s because you’re being paranoid.”

I sat on the edge of her bed.

“Arya, I know you’ve been texting Veronica.”

Her face went red.

“So? She’s the only one who understands me. You just want to control everything I do.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Isn’t it? You freaked out because I was on a date. A date, Dad. I’m 16, not six.”

“He was 40 years old, Arya.”

She looked away.

“Age doesn’t matter when you really connect with someone.”

Those weren’t her words. That was Veronica talking.

I pulled out my phone and showed her some of the recordings. I let her hear Veronica talking about using her looks while she could and finding someone to take care of her.

Arya listened, her face slowly changing from defiant to confused.

“She said… she said she was helping me. That you’d never let me grow up.”

“Honey, I want you to grow up, but at your own pace. Making your own choices. Not being pushed into situations you’re not ready for.”

She was quiet for a long time. Then in a small voice she said,

“You were replacing me. That once you had her, you wouldn’t need a daughter anymore.”

I hugged her tight.

“Never. You’re my whole world, kid. Nothing changes that.”