Mother HIDES Under the Bed to Find Out What Her New Boyfriend Was Doing to Her Son Every Night!

A 10-year-old boy tells his mother what his stepfather was doing to him, making her tremble with fear to the point of hiding under the bed to uncover the truth. But when she realized what was really happening, her world fell apart.

Annabeth woke up early, as she did every day, slipped into her blue silk robe, which glided softly over her shoulders, and stretched, taking a deep breath as she felt the cool morning breeze waft through the half-opened window. She sighed. Everything seemed peaceful, almost like a painting of the perfect routine.

She glanced at her husband, still asleep in bed his face serene, his hair slightly messy. He was a man she admired, one who brought security and stability to her life. Smiling, Annabeth headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her bare feet touched the wooden floor, which creaked softly under her weight, a familiar sound that was part of her morning routine.

Once in the kitchen, she began preparing breakfast. She grabbed the coffee grounds and water, adjusting the filters in the kettle. Even though she lived in the United States, Annabeth had never abandoned her Brazilian roots, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee always brought back childhood memories. It was impossible not to think of her grandmother serving freshly brewed coffee and cheese bread on mornings like this.

With that in mind, she took a bag of frozen bread out of the freezer and placed it in the oven, feeling grateful for being able to recreate those memories.

While waiting, Annabeth approached the window to enjoy the view of the garden. It was her favorite refuge—a place she tended to with love and care. The multicolored flowers swayed gently in the wind, and the lawn looked immaculate. A small smile appeared on her face.

“Perfect,” she thought.

But suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her head.

“Ouch,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as if it would ease the pain.

Annabeth had no idea what would happen the moment she reopened them.

The once lush garden was unrecognizable. The flowers were wilted, the lawn dry, everything lifeless. The white fence was dirty and broken, and everything seemed abandoned, as if no one had tended to the place in months. The stark contrast was so shocking that her heart raced. She gripped the window sill, feeling dizzy.

“What?” she whispered.

Then the kettle’s whistle echoed through the kitchen, breaking the disturbing moment. She blinked a few times and looked again. Everything was back to normal. The garden was once again beautiful and well-tended, the fence freshly painted white, as if nothing had happened.

“Wow… I must still be tired,” she murmured to herself, yawning as she tried to shake off the discomfort.

Quickly, she turned to the kettle and started pouring the coffee. As the familiar aroma filled the air, Annabeth carefully set the table—delicate white cups, neatly folded napkins, perfectly aligned cutlery. Everything seemed in harmony, just like the life she had built. She loved her home, took pride in every detail—the well-set table, the fresh coffee, the small joys of a routine she shared with her son Joey and her new husband. It was a dream come true.

Although her husband wasn’t Joey’s biological father, he was a devoted stepfather. For her, that was more than enough.

“They’ll probably be waking up soon,” she whispered with a smile as she placed the freshly baked cheese bread on the table.

Then the sound of small footsteps echoed down the hallway. Annabeth looked up and saw her little boy approaching—his hair messy, his eyes still puffy from sleep.

“Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?” she asked, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

He nodded with a yawn, rubbing his eyes as he sat in his chair.

“Yes, Mom,” he answered softly, his childlike voice still groggy.

“I’ll get some cheese bread for you. Just wait a bit, it’s still hot,” she said, turning to grab the boy’s plastic plate.

She had forgotten—suddenly another sharp pain shot through her head, stronger this time. She brought a hand to her forehead, feeling a slight tremor. As she reached out for the plate, she froze, horrified. She could hardly believe what she was seeing.

Her skin was covered in purple marks. Bruises scattered as if she had been beaten. The air seemed to vanish for a moment.

“Oh my God—”

Annabeth jumped back, nearly knocking over the dishes on the counter. Her breathing quickened, her heart racing. For a moment, she felt her legs give way. The shock was so overwhelming that she barely noticed the little boy also jumping up from his chair, his face worried.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asked, looking at her with his wide, curious eyes, taking quick steps toward her to help.

Annabeth blinked several times, trying to process what she had just seen. When she looked at her arms again, the bruises were gone. There was no trace of the marks that had been there seconds before. It was as if it had all been a figment of her imagination.

“Jesus, I must be really tired. This is just in my head,” she thought, trying to calm herself as she ran her hands over her arms, searching for a logical explanation for what she had seen.

She took a deep breath and, noticing Joey standing near her, managed to smile to reassure him.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Mommy just got startled, that’s all. Okay? I’m a little tired, but everything’s fine, really,” she said, laughing softly to avoid worrying him.

Her son, still a bit skeptical, nodded and returned to the table. He loved mornings with his mom—the smell of fresh coffee and the warmth of the cheese bread she made especially for him. It was the moment he felt closest to her, listening to her stories about Brazil and the childhood she loved to reminisce about.

“Mommy, when you were little, did you really go to the creek every day to catch fish?” he asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

He loved those stories—the adventures in the countryside of Brazil, which seemed so magical and far from the hustle and bustle of New York City.

“Oh yes, sweetheart, every day. We used to call the little fish ‘pabas.’ They swam all around, and it was so much fun,” she replied, finishing setting the table, still a bit shaken by the earlier scare.

It was comforting to see her son so interested in her memories. The connection they shared was unique, and Annabeth made a point of preserving these moments. She placed the plate of cheese bread in front of him and poured coffee into his cup.

Joey began eating, clearly excited, but his expression quickly changed when he heard footsteps approaching. Annabeth turned and saw her husband, still drowsy, entering the kitchen and yawning as he followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

“Oh, good morning, dear. Your coffee is ready,” she said warmly, giving him a tender smile.

As he slowly approached, he kissed her cheek and murmured a sluggish “good morning.”

She began preparing a plate for him too—placing cheese bread and pouring coffee into his cup—but something felt off. Annabeth didn’t notice right away, but her son, still chewing, gave his stepfather a hard stare. His furrowed brows made it clear that something was deeply bothering him. He didn’t say a word, but his expression said it all.

Rert, on the other hand, didn’t acknowledge the boy’s presence—as if he weren’t even there. He sat at the table, sipped his coffee, and began eating in silence.

Joey grew visibly irritated, glancing at his mom as if expecting her to say something. When she didn’t, he pushed his chair back with an irritating screech against the floor and stood up.

“I’m going to get ready for school,” he announced curtly, barely looking at her or his stepfather, and walked out of the kitchen quickly—leaving Annabeth standing in the middle of the room, confused.

For a moment, she stood frozen, an uneasy feeling in her chest.