Six months. That’s how long it had been since I last saw my grandson. Six months of silence. Until today.

Standing outside my son’s house, my heart pounded as I saw Timmy at the window. His lips formed a single word:

“Grandma.”

Before I could wave, the door swung open. Olivia. Her cold stare cut through me.

“What are you doing here?”

I held up a toy. “It’s Timmy’s birthday.”

“We agreed on distance,” she said before shutting the door in my face.

Just as I bent to leave the gift, a tiny paper airplane landed at my feet.

Grandma, I want to see you. Mom says you’re bad, but I don’t believe her. I know her secret. Look in the dinosaur book.

A chill ran down my spine.

At the library, I found another note.

Mom took Dad’s money. She said it was for you.

Days later, at the mall, I saw John and Timmy.

“Granny! I did everything you asked!” Timmy beamed.

John frowned. “Mom? What note?”

“I never took your money, John. Olivia did.”

Timmy pulled out receipts. John’s face paled. “Jewelry? Designer stores? Olivia—this is thousands of dollars!”

She stammered. “I… I thought I could replace it!”

John turned to me, regret in his eyes. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

Timmy squeezed my hand. “Can I stay with Grandma for a while?”

John nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”

I hugged Timmy tight.

“Grandma, can we get ice cream?”

I smiled, tears in my eyes. “Anything you want.”

After six months, I had him back.