“Three in the morning, I woke with a start when I heard my daughter’s door click. My husband was slipping into her room again, just like every night. Shaking, I opened the hidden camera app I’d tucked inside her stuffed toy days earlier… ‘Daddy… please don’t…’ her trembling voice came through my phone. I leapt out of bed, my heart shattering — but what I saw next was worse than any nightmare I could imagine. Moms… what am I supposed to do…?”

“Three in the morning, I woke with a start when I heard my daughter’s door click. My husband was slipping into her room again, just like every night. Shaking, I opened the hidden camera app I’d tucked inside her stuffed toy days earlier… ‘Daddy… please don’t…’ her trembling voice came through my phone. I leapt out of bed, my heart shattering — but what I saw next was worse than any nightmare I could imagine. Moms… what am I supposed to do…?”

It was three in the morning when Anna Caldwell jolted awake to the faint click of her daughter Lily’s bedroom door. Her pulse thudded in her throat. For the past week, she had sensed something was wrong—Lily’s sudden fatigue, her jumpiness, the way she clutched her stuffed fox at night. Anna had asked her husband, Mark, about it, but he always brushed her off with a laugh. “Kids are dramatic,” he’d said. “She’s fine.”

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