When my husband, Mike, started taking our kids to “visit Grandma” every Saturday, I didn’t think twice. He was a devoted father, and his mom, Diane, had always adored our children. But things slowly stopped adding up. Diane stopped mentioning the visits. When I brought them up, her response was oddly vague. Mike also began insisting I stay home to rest, avoiding eye contact when I offered to come along. Something wasn’t right. Then, one morning, our daughter Ava blurted out, “Grandma is just a secret code.” My heart dropped. Before I could ask more, s
he ran outside, clearly nervous. That was the moment I decided to follow them. To my shock, Mike drove to a quiet park—nowhere near Diane’s house. There, a woman waited with a little girl who ran into Mike’s arms like she’d known him forever. My kids joined in like it was a regular playdate. I confronted Mike. His face went pale. The woman, Hannah, and the girl,