My mom has severe mobility issues, so I hired a nanny to look after her. But my mom kept insisting that the nanny was verbally abusing her and stealing her money. I installed security cameras all over the house, but the footage only showed my mom screaming like a lunatic at a silent nanny. Because of this, I had several huge fights with her. The nanny, Martha, looked incredibly hurt every time: "If it weren't out of respect for you, Claire, I would have quit months ago!" But I started to wonder… if she was suffering so much in our house, why did she refuse to quit? *** **1** My mom sneered when she heard Martha’s tearful words. "Oh, cut the act, Martha!" "Claire, listen to me. I might be old, but I am not losing my mind!" "Fire her! Right now!" I was drowning in a major project at work, my husband, David, was out of town on business, and I had already left our kid with my mother-in-law. I literally had zero time or energy to take care of her myself. "Mom, this is the fourteenth nanny we’ve had! If we fire her, the agency won't even send us anyone else!" "I checked the cameras, Mom. Martha didn't say a single word. Can you please stop making a scene?" Maybe it was because I was so stressed lately, but I snapped. My voice was sharp, and I even had stress ulcers in my mouth. Seeing my exhausted state, my mom’s shoulders slumped. "Fine. Once you’re old, you’re just a burden to everyone." I rolled my eyes, walked out of her room, and turned to Martha. "I’m so sorry, Martha. My mom has a terrible temper. Thanks for putting up with her." I pulled out a $100 Target gift card that my company had given me and slipped it into her hand. "Take this. Get yourself some treats on your day off. Please, just hang in there for me." Martha sighed and took the card. "Claire, honestly, if I didn't see how hard you work, I would have... well, never mind. It’s my job, after all." "Oh, by the way, I made some organic honey grapefruit tea. You should take a jar home. It’s great for stress." Martha took a glass jar from the fridge. She insisted I take it. Before leaving, I looked back at my mom's room. "Mom, I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything." My mom just waved her hand dismissively, not even looking at me. As soon as I got into my car, I opened the security app on my phone. The live feed showed Martha kneeling on the floor, massaging my mom’s feet. "Helen," Martha said on screen, her voice gentle. "You’re older than me, but you have to understand your kids have it hard. You keep calling Claire back home every two days. I know you miss her, but she has a career to focus on." My heart ached when I heard that. It was true. I had been chasing this client for three months. It was the peak of my busy season. But at the same time, my mom’s diabetes complications had left her bound to a wheelchair. I was desperate, which was why I had gone through fourteen nannies. Her temper had only gotten worse since she got sick. Martha was the only one who had lasted. She had been with us for six months now. I sighed. But suddenly, my mom’s sharp scream pierced through my phone speaker. "You’re mocking me again! You psycho! Get away from me! Get away!" "Let go of me! It hurts! Claire, look at her! She’s stabbing me!" I quickly rewound the footage. But Martha’s mouth hadn't moved at all! There was no sound of abuse on the recording, yet my mom was screaming in terror. She shoved Martha away, causing Martha to stumble onto the floor. Martha looked up with tears in her eyes. "Helen, I know you don't like me, but I’ll stop talking, okay?" "Just please don’t stress Claire out. She’s so busy." "Get out of here! You snake!" I couldn't watch it anymore. I wanted to yell at my mom through the camera's speaker, but I stopped myself. Just then, my coworker leaned over my desk, seeing my miserable face. She tapped my shoulder. "Is your mom throwing another tantrum?" "Yeah. She keeps saying the nanny is abusing her. I installed cameras, but they show absolutely nothing. She was never like this before." "Maybe you should get her evaluated for Alzheimer's? I heard sudden personality changes and paranoia are early signs of dementia." Her words made me freeze. It was true. Ever since my mom lost her mobility, she had become a completely different person. I thought it was just because of her illness, but could there be another reason? After finishing my shift, I went back to my own apartment. I didn't go to my mom’s place because I was just too exhausted. I wanted to get one day of rest and visit her the next morning. But that night, my phone rang. It was my mom, sobbing. "Claire, come quick! She’s doing it again!" *** **2** I jumped out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and rushed to my car. When I parked downstairs at my mom’s place, I instinctively opened the security app to check the playback. The footage showed Martha bringing a basin of warm water to wash my mom’s feet. But out of nowhere, my mom suddenly started screaming obscenities at her and kicked the basin over, splashing water everywhere. My head throbbed. I went upstairs, unlocked the door, and walked in. Martha was on her knees, drying the hardwood floor with a towel. Seeing me, she let out a long sigh. "Claire, I think Helen’s mental state is deteriorating. You really need to take her to a neurologist." My mom went ballistic. "You liar! You fake bitch! How dare you frame me!" "Claire, she—" "Enough, Mom! I am exhausted!" My head was pounding so hard I felt sick. I had never felt this level of frustration before. "Why do you keep doing this? We’ve gone through fourteen nannies! Are you trying to drive everyone away?" "Do you have any idea how hard my life is right now?" My mom gasped, staring at me in shock, unable to speak. Martha stood beside her, looking deeply hurt. "Helen, I’ve told you a hundred times, I never said those things. If you keep doing this, I’m going to lose my mind!" Hearing this, my mom lost it. She furiously rolled up her sleeves. "Look! She doesn't just abuse me, she stabs me!" She grabbed my hand. "Claire, I raised you. I’m your mother. Do you really not believe me?" I sighed, completely drained. "Mom, if you really believe that, let’s just call the police." My mom choked. "The police?" Martha stepped in. "Actually, let me call them. I don’t want Helen to think I have something to hide, and I don't want you caught in the middle, Claire." Martha pulled out her phone and dialed 911 right in front of us. My mom sneered. "Fine! Call them! Let's see how long you can keep up this act!" I watched Martha’s face closely. There wasn’t a single trace of panic. Ten minutes later, two police officers arrived. My mom immediately told them that Martha was abusing her and stabbing her with needles. "Look at my arms! Look at these marks!" I leaned in to look. Indeed, there were tiny, red, swollen puncture wounds on her arms. Martha calmly spoke to the officers. "Sir, nanny agencies have strict rules against carrying sharp objects. I was fully vetted. I have no idea why she is accusing me of this. You are welcome to check the security cameras." I nodded and showed the officers the footage. There was absolutely no sound of Martha speaking, let alone abusing her. My mom was shaking with rage. "You’re all in on this! Get out! All of you, get out of my house!" One of the officers looked at my mom, his face serious. "Ma'am, if you call us out here for a false report again, we will have to take legal action." My mom froze. "What?" "Filing a false police report is a crime." The officer then turned to me. "Does your mother have a history of mental illness? You should really get her checked out." I was mortified. I apologized profusely, escorted the officers out, and turned to apologize to Martha. Martha patted my shoulder gently. "It’s okay, Claire. Before I took this job, the agency told me your mom was difficult. But you're around my daughter’s age, so I understand." "Taking care of parents is just a heavy cross we have to bear." My mom screamed from her room, "Shut up, you witch!" Martha shook her head. "I'll ignore that." I couldn't control my anger anymore and turned to my mom. "Mom, stop it! I’m working overtime, sleeping three hours a day, and you're pulling this crap? Look at me! I look like a corpse! I beg you, just stop!" *** **3** I threw my hands up in defeat. My mom took a deep, shaky breath, slowly turned her wheelchair around, and rolled into her bedroom without saying another word. I wondered if I had hurt her feelings, but I literally had nothing left in me to comfort her. I asked Martha to keep an eye on her, and since I couldn't bear the thought of driving back to my place, I went into the guest bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Right before I drifted off, a thought popped into my head. I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app. I watched the footage again, frame by frame, zoomed in. Martha’s lips definitely did not move. Yet, my mom’s physical reaction—the way she flinched and screamed—was extremely genuine. My mom was a gentle, sweet woman before she got sick. She wouldn't act like this for no reason. And those puncture wounds on her arms were real. But Martha didn't have any needles in her bags. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally, I opened Amazon and ordered a few hidden spy cameras. The next morning, I took a sick day from work. I sent Martha out to the grocery store, and while she was gone, I hidden-installed the cameras all over the house. I even attached a tiny button-sized spy camera to one of my mom’s cardigans. My mom watched me do this, looking confused. "Claire?" "Mom, I want to protect you. But you have to cooperate with me. Tell me the absolute truth—what is going on?" "I couldn't find any evidence before. If you're telling the truth, I won't let anyone hurt you. But I can't accuse someone without proof." My mom looked incredibly vulnerable. "She really does abuse me, Claire. But her mouth doesn't move. The voice... it just comes out of her." I stared at her, stunned. Later that afternoon, I drove to the agency, *Joyful Care*, bringing a box of expensive donuts. The manager, Leonard, recognized me immediately and smiled. "Hey, Claire! Are we looking for nanny number fifteen?" I shook my head. "Actually, no. I’m here to thank you for sending Martha. She’s been a lifesaver." "My mom’s mind has been a bit fuzzy lately, and she’s been giving Martha a hard time. I just wanted to make sure Martha feels appreciated." "I’m sure you’ve heard about the police incident." Leonard waved his hand. "Oh, don't worry about it. It’s part of the job. You shouldn't feel guilty." "By the way, what does Martha like? I want to get her a nice gift, maybe send her and my mom on a small day trip to get them out of the house." Hearing this, Leonard let his guard down completely and started chatting away, telling me all about Martha’s background and habits. When I walked out of the agency, my hands were clenched into tight fists. I ran to my car and sped back home. Halfway there, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Martha. She was in the kitchen making apple pies, while my mom was yelling in the background. *“Are you coming home for dinner, Claire? I’m baking pies,”* Martha’s text read. In the video, my mom’s eyes were bloodshot. "My daughter will destroy you when she finds out!" Then, Martha walked closer to my mom. Her back was completely blocking the main security camera. The audio on the main feed was silent. But the tiny button camera on my mom's cardigan captured everything crystal clear: "You old piece of trash. Keep crying. Let’s see if anyone believes you." "You think complaining to your daughter will save you? You called the cops, and they almost locked *you* up. You’re a useless, paralyzed waste of space." Hearing those words, I almost blacked out from rage. That psychopath! She had fooled us all! On screen, Martha suddenly shoved my mom into the bathroom. My mom let out a blood-curdling scream! Through the hidden camera, I saw Martha pull something small and sharp from her pocket and viciously jab it into my mom's mouth!
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