I caught my son slipping his expensive dinner into our maid’s old bag. Furious, I demanded, “Why are you stealing from your own family?” He looked up with tears in his eyes and whispered, “Because she’s my real mom, and she only eats our leftovers.” My world spun as I looked at the hidden photo in her bag…

her eyes flashing with vindication. “Children are highly susceptible to manipulation. She plays the tragic pauper, sighs over her empty lunchbox, and waits for the rich little boy to take the bait. It’s predatory, Ethan.”

“She passed the agency’s highest background checks,” I argued, though my own doubts gnawed at me.

Vanessa leaned in, her voice a continue reading …