But not everyone has been as thrilled about her as we are—specifically, my mother-in-law, Carol. From the moment we told Carol we were adopting, things have been… tense. “Are you sure this is the right decision?” she’d asked when we first broke the news. She sat there, arms crossed, giving us this look like we were making a mistake.I remember glancing at Ethan, waiting for him to say something, to reassure her, but he just shrugged and muttered, “It’s what we want, Mom.” And that was that. No congratulations, no excitement—just awkward silence. Over time, her comments became more pointed. “It’s just… different when they’re not your own blood,” she said one night during dinner, poking at her plate as if the food had offended her. I felt my heart sink, but I kept quiet, hoping Ethan would step in. “Mom, can we not do this right now?” Ethan finally said, his voice tight. Carol didn’t say anything after that, but the damage was done. Even after Emma came into our lives, Carol’s attitude never really changed. She was distant and cold. At family gatherings, she barely acknowledged Emma. It hurt, more than I’d ever admit. “Maybe she just needs time,” Ethan would say, though his voice always lacked conviction. But recently… during Emma’s fourth birthday, something happened that’s been keeping me awake at night. The celebration was a blur of cake, laughter, and brightly colored balloons. But the real showstopper was Carol’s gift. She walked in with this enormous box, barely managing to balance it as she made her way through the door. “Oh wow, what is that?” Ethan chuckled, eyeing the massive package. Carol smiled—really smiled, for once—and said, “It’s for Emma.” Emma’s eyes lit up as Ethan tore through the wrapping paper to reveal a giant stuffed elephant, almost as tall as Emma. “Ellie!” Emma squealed, hugging the elephant tight. “Her name’s Ellie!” I exchanged a surprised look with Ethan. Carol had never shown this kind of excitement when it came to Emma. Was this her way of trying to connect? At first, I was thrilled. Emma loved that thing. She dragged Ellie everywhere: through the kitchen, up the stairs, even outside to the backyard when we let her. It seemed like maybe Carol was finally warming up to Emma. But after a few days, something started to bother me. “Is it just me, or does that elephant seem… heavy?” I asked Ethan one night as we were cleaning up after dinner. He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the size of it?” “Maybe,” I murmured, but I wasn’t convinced. And then there was the smell, this weird, faint chemical odor that clung to the air whenever Ellie was nearby. I tried to ignore it, convincing myself it was just the fabric. But I couldn’t shake this growing unease. Something wasn’t right. One evening, after putting Emma to bed, I sat on the couch, staring at Ellie slumped in the corner. Ethan was working late, so it was just me and my thoughts. I found myself standing up, almost in a trance, and walking over to the elephant. I ran my hands over its soft, plush surface. And then I noticed it—a stitch near the back that felt a little… off. I grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. “Am I really doing this?” I thought. I made a small cut, just enough to peek inside. My fingers reached in, expecting to find cotton or stuffing, but instead, they brushed against something hard. Paper? I pulled it out slowly, and my breath caught in my throat. My hands shook as I unfolded the papers I’d pulled from the stuffed elephant. Old, crumpled documents spilled out onto the coffee table. At first, they didn’t make sense. My eyes darted over legal jargon, birth certificates, and adoption records. “Why are these here?” I muttered to myself. I flipped through them, trying to piece it all together, when something caught my eye—red ink, scrawled viciously in the margins. “Not real family.” “What?” I whispered, my heart pounding in my ears. I kept reading, and my stomach twisted. “She’ll never be yours.” “Blood is thicker than water.” The words felt like a punch to the gut, each one more hateful than the last. My breath came in shallow gasps as I stared down at the papers. This wasn’t a mistake. This was deliberate. This was Carol. “I’m done with this. I’m done with her,” I muttered through clenched teeth. Without a second thought, I stormed out of the house, the elephant clutched in my arms. I grabbed the lighter fluid from the garage, my mind on autopilot. Every time I thought of Emma hugging that toy, of those papers being so close to her, it made my blood boil even hotter. I threw the elephant into the fire pit, dousing it with the fluid. The flames roared to life, shooting up in a brilliant burst of orange and red. The heat slapped me in the face, but I didn’t care. I stood there, watching as the elephant melted, as the papers turned to ash. Just as the flames began to die down, I heard Ethan’s voice behind me. “Jess?” He sounded confused, almost out of breath, as if he had just realized what was happening. “What are you doing out here?” I turned slowly, still holding the empty lighter fluid can. The remnants of the elephant were a smoldering heap of ashes behind me. Ethan’s eyes flicked from me to the fire, his brow furrowed. “Where’s Ellie?” I pointed at the fire pit. “Gone.” “Wait—what?” He stared at the glowing embers, his face twisted in disbelief. “What happened?” “She stuffed Emma’s adoption papers inside that elephant, Ethan. With hateful, disgusting messages.” My voice cracked, but I pressed on. “I had to burn it. I had to get rid of it.” His face paled, his mouth hanging open. “What? My mom… she did that?” I nodded, my chest tightening as I relived the moment. “Yes. I found the papers tonight. She wrote things like ‘Not real family’ and ‘She’ll never be yours.’” Ethan’s face twisted with a mix of horror and anger. “You’re telling me my mom did this?” His voice trembled, his hands balling into fists. “She hid Emma’s adoption papers… inside a toy?” I nodded, feeling my own anger rise again just thinking about it. “She wanted us to see her point of view. She wanted to remind us that Emma isn’t ‘blood.’ But the way she did it, Ethan, it’s sick. I had to burn it. I couldn’t let that stay in this house, near our daughter.” Ethan ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room like he was trying to find the right words. Then, all at once, his face hardened. “That’s it. She’s done. She’s out of our lives.” His voice was cold, edged with fury. The next morning, we made the call. Ethan took the phone into the living room, and I stayed close by, listening as he dialed his mother’s number. I heard the line connect, and then Carol’s voice, chipper and unsuspecting, filled the room. “Ethan, hi! How’s Emma?” “You’re done, Mom,” Ethan interrupted, his voice trembling with anger. “You’re no longer welcome in our home. You’re not coming near Emma again.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. Then Carol’s voice, thin and pleading, broke through. “Ethan, wait, what are you talking about? I was just trying to protect you! I….” “Protect us?” he snapped. “From what, exactly? From our daughter? The girl you’ve barely acknowledged? You’re the one who’s dangerous, not Emma. You’re not welcome in our lives. Not anymore.” Carol’s voice cracked. “Ethan, please! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….” “You’re not listening,” he said, his voice ice-cold now. “You’re out. Don’t call, don’t visit, don’t ever try to see Emma again. We’re done.” And with that, he hung up. For a moment, neither of us spoke. It felt like the air in the room had been sucked out. Then Ethan sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his hands. “She tried to defend it, Jess. She tried to justify what she did.” I shook my head, feeling both angry and relieved. “People like her don’t change. We did the right thing.” Weeks have passed since that night, and sometimes I still catch myself replaying the moment I found those papers inside Ellie. I still wonder how someone could be so filled with hate toward an innocent child, our child. But now, every time I look at Emma, I know we made the right choice. She’s our daughter, in every way that matters, and nothing—not blood, not hate—will ever change that.“I’d burn the whole world if I had to,” I whispered to Ethan one night as we tucked Emma in. “To protect her.” He squeezed my hand, his voice low but firm. “I know. And we will, Jess. We will.”