After my parents died in a house fire, I became the guardian of my six-year-old twins, Caleb and Liam. My fiancé, Mark, brought love and stability—but his mother, Joyce, grew cruel toward the boys.
One day, she packed their suitcases, claiming they were being sent to a “new family.” Terrified, the twins sobbed. Mark confronted her, but she refused to back down.
On his birthday, we set a clear boundary: Joyce thought the boys might be given away—but instead, Mark removed her from their lives. Legal protections followed, and our home finally became safe.
Now, Mark calls the boys “our sons,” and we’re preparing for adoption. Every night, when they ask, “Are we staying forever?” I answer with certainty: “Forever and ever.”
