My Son, Their Prop- A Mother's Wrath to Burn It All Down

The day I discovered my son had been rented out as a party prop, my world shattered. My hands trembled as I zoomed in on the video, my heart pounding: there he was, my baby, in a stranger's arms. Panic clawed at my throat. I immediately called Frederic. "Hey, honey, check the video and screenshot I just sent you. That's Norris, isn't it?"

There was a brief silence before he spoke, his voice careful. "Sandi, don't panic. I'll call my mom and see what's going on."

"I already tried! She's not answering! How can I not be worried?"

I grabbed my bag and rushed out, driving straight to Frederic's mother, Emeline's house, calling her nonstop along the way. It took her a full thirty minutes to finally pick up. In the background, I heard the unmistakable sound of poker, then sudden silence.

My stomach twisted. "Emeline, where's Norris?"

There was a pause, then a nervous stammer. "Uh… Norris? He's, he's asleep!"

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Emeline had a bad habit of playing poker regularly, something Frederic and I had explicitly told her to stop while caring for Norris. We'd agreed. No poker nights. No distractions. She had promised.

And now she was lying to me.

"I'm bringing some things for Norris. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Oh! Why are you coming all of a sudden? You should've told me first."

Her panicked tone sent a fresh wave of dread through me. I hung up and floored the gas pedal.

When I pulled up, Emeline was standing at the front door, phone pressed to her ear. As I approached, I heard her urgently whisper, "Bring Norris back now! My daughter-in-law is on her way!"

Then, a voice on the other end, impatient and annoyed: "Can't you just make up an excuse or something?"

I stopped cold. My blood turned to ice.

"Emeline," I said, my voice dangerously calm, "where is my son?"