When Isolde’s ex-husband, Rune, showed up at the door with a large rocking horse as a gift for their son Zevran, her instincts immediately warned her something was wrong. Rune never did anything without a hidden motive, especially when it came to their son.
He stood there, smiling as if he had brought down the stars from the sky, while Isolde’s irritation started to build.
“I thought Zevran would like this,” Rune said, his voice annoyingly cheerful, always masking his true intentions.
Isolde forced a smile, but it looked strained. She could never have imagined that this toy would turn her life upside down.
She stepped aside to let him in as he carried the large toy into the living room.
“Zevran’s in his room,” she said.
Rune didn’t wait. He hurried upstairs, calling out, “Hey, little man! Come see what Dad got you!”
Isolde leaned against the doorway, rubbing her head. This wasn’t the first time Rune had tried to win Zevran over with flashy gifts. It always followed the same pattern: her son’s eyes would light up with joy, and then Rune would drop bad news, leaving her to deal with the emotional fallout.
“Mom! Look what Dad got me!” Zevran’s voice echoed from upstairs, full of excitement.
Moments later, Zevran rushed into the living room, Rune following close behind. Zevran’s face glowed with happiness, gripping the horse’s reins. Isolde managed a smile but braced herself for the usual bad-news twist.
“It’s awesome, Dad! Can I ride it now?”
“Of course, champ,” Rune said, tousling Zevran’s hair. “Just be careful, okay?”
“All right,” she said, “but only for a little while. It’s almost dinnertime, remember? Dad’s taking you for pizza.”
“That reminds me…” Rune flashed his charming smile at her. “I can’t take Zevran out tonight.”
“What?” Zevran froze mid-rock, staring at his father.
Isolde sighed. Here it comes again.
“Sorry, kiddo, but Dad has work,” Rune explained, kneeling beside Zevran. “I’ll make it up next weekend, I promise.”
Zevran hung his head, sniffled, disappointed.
“But until then, you can play on your horse, okay?” Rune continued. “If you ride it every day, I’ll get you a real cowboy hat to wear while riding Dusty here, alright?”
Rune patted the horse’s neck. Zevran nodded and climbed on.
“I’ll ride him every day so you can visit me, Dad,” Zevran said.
Isolde’s heart ached, but Rune ruffled Zevran’s hair and left. She caught his arm as he passed.
“You can’t keep doing this, Rune,” she said quietly. “Big gifts don’t replace time with your son.”
Rune pulled away. “Don’t lecture me, Isolde. Remember, my lawyers are still fighting the custody case.”
She rolled her eyes. “How could I forget?”
He smirked and walked out. Watching him leave, Isolde wondered if they could ever co-parent peacefully.
“Hey, Zevran, we can still grab pizza if you want,” she called as she shut the door.
“Thanks, Mom,” Zevran replied.
As he climbed off the horse, a bad feeling tightened in her chest. Something about this gift felt wrong, more than Rune’s usual games, though she couldn’t pinpoint it.
Over the next few days, Zevran was glued to the rocking horse, his laughter echoing through the house. It almost eased Isolde’s growing unease—almost.
Then the noises began.
At first, it was a faint ticking, like stuck gears inside the toy. She ignored it, thinking it was an old mechanism. But it grew louder and impossible to ignore.
One windy night, Zevran had been asleep for hours when she heard the ticking again, stronger than ever.
Grabbing a flashlight, she crept down the hall.
Pushing open Zevran’s door, she saw the horse sway slightly, moved by the breeze. The ticking sent shivers down her spine. She knelt to check the base, and when she tilted the horse, the ticking grew louder. Her fingers touched something hard.
She shone the flashlight underneath and found a small hidden compartment in the horse’s belly. The toy didn’t need batteries—what was this?
She pried it open and something small fell into her hand. Shock turned into pure anger when she saw it: a tiny voice recorder.
The truth hit hard. Rune. He was trying to gather evidence against her to use in their custody case. Rage and betrayal boiled within her. How dare he use their son like this?
Clutching the recorder, she slipped out of Zevran’s room. Her mind raced—every word she had spoken near the horse might be twisted. But she had to be clever. She needed advice.
With shaky hands, she called her lawyer, Lysara.
“Isolde? What’s wrong?” Lysara’s steady voice was a lifeline.
“Lysara, you won’t believe what Rune did. He hid a voice recorder in Zevran’s rocking horse! He’s trying to get evidence against me!”
Lysara sighed. “Take a deep breath. Evidence like this won’t work in court. He can’t use it against you.”
“Are you sure?” Isolde asked softly.
“Completely,” Lysara said confidently. “Stay calm. This could backfire on him. How did you find it?”
Isolde explained everything, from the odd noises to the late-night discovery.
“Alright,” Lysara said. “Use this to your advantage. Make sure that recorder captures nothing useful. Turn it against him.”
Hope sparked within her. She wasn’t going to let Rune win.
She spent hours setting a trap: filling the recorder with hours of kids’ shows and repetitive commercials. Then she returned it to the horse, leaving it looking untouched. The thought of outsmarting Rune thrilled her.
When Rune visited the weekend after, she greeted him politely, watching closely as he played with Zevran. Every so often, his eyes drifted toward the horse. Zevran happily climbed on, rocking away, oblivious to the tension.
Days passed, and Rune never mentioned the recorder. His silence was acceptance. For the first time in a long while, Isolde felt relief and victory. She had protected her son and outwitted her ex-husband.
In the quiet nights, with Zevran asleep, she smiled. The rocking horse sat innocently in the corner—a symbol of the test she had passed and her determination to always keep her son safe.