My six-year-old son, Jamie, adored her. Every morning, he’d race through the house to find her hiding spot, giggling at her silly antics.

But this year, something changed.

It started subtly.

One morning, Jamie sighed as he glanced at the elf and pouted.

“I don’t care where Sparkle is today,” he said.

I laughed it off, thinking it was just a grumpy mood. But over the next few days, he became quiet, uninterested in decorating the tree or opening his advent calendar.

When I pulled out the box of ornaments, he didn’t even glance at it. That wasn’t like Jamie. Christmas was his favorite time of year.

The real turning point came two days ago.

“Jamie, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I asked, rushing to his side.

He flinched away from my touch, his hands shaking slightly.

“Nothing, Julie,” he said.

Julie? Since when did he call me by my name?

“Baby, talk to me. Please.”

He hesitated, then looked me square in the eyes, his voice cracking.

“The elf told me… you’re not my real mom.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

He sobbed harder, wiping at his face with trembling hands.

“Sparkle told me that you’re not my real mom. She wouldn’t lie. She’s magic! You always told me that Sparkle was real magic, Mommy. So…”

Sparkle? The elf? Telling him something like this?

I gathered him into my arms, though he stiffened.

“Jamie, listen to me, my love. I am your mom. And I have loved you since the day you were born. I’ve shown you all the photos, haven’t I? Of the photos when you were just born, and I carried you?”

“Yes, but she said…”

“Sweetheart, Sparkle can’t talk. She’s just a toy. Remember?”

He shook his head fiercely.

A chill ran down my spine. Someone had put this idea into Jamie’s head, and I needed to find out who.

That night, after Jamie fell asleep, I crept back into the living room, making sure that I wouldn’t disturb him or Biscuit, our dog. I picked up Sparkle, examining her closely. She seemed normal, just fabric, stuffing, and thread. But as I held her, a faint click came from inside.

My stomach churned.

What the hell?

Static crackled, followed by a man’s distorted voice. It was calm, deliberate, cold, and mimicked a woman’s voice.

She’s not your real mom, Jamie. She’s lying to you.

I felt sick. There was only one person twisted enough to do this. I played it again, needing to make sure.

Yes, there was no mistaking it. Thomas, my ex-husband. This was the voice he used when he was reading to Jamie and playing the parts of a female character.

My ex and I split shortly after Jamie was born. He was an absent father in every sense of the word, rarely visiting, and paying the bare minimum in child support. Naturally, the courts granted me full custody years ago, and Jamie barely knew him.

Then, six months ago, something shifted. My ex suddenly wanted to reconnect. He started sending gifts, making empty promises of visits and trips, and calling more frequently. A few weeks ago, his visits included reading to Jamie.

None of it felt genuine. I suspected he had an agenda, but I couldn’t have imagined this.

“We need to talk,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Meet me at Java & Joe’s in an hour.”

When he walked into the coffee shop, his smug expression set my teeth on edge. I didn’t waste any time. I slid the voice recorder across the table and hit play.

The color drained from his face.

“I know what you did,” I said quietly, though my anger simmered beneath the surface.

He laughed nervously.

“You’re overreacting, Julie. Whatever it is, you’re just overreacting and probably making things up. You’ve always done that.”

“You planted this in Jamie’s elf. You used his trust against him. Do you have any idea what that’s done to him? To me?”

He shifted in his seat, trying to recover.

“Jamie deserves to know the truth.”

I leaned in, my glare icy.

He hesitated, then cracked under the pressure. Finally, he admitted everything.

He’d recently remarried. His new wife desperately wanted a child, but she couldn’t have any.

“Denise wants a family, and Jamie… he’s my son. He should live with me,” he said, as if that justified his insane actions.

A shiver shot down my spine, but he wasn’t finished.

He confessed that he had been working on Jamie during their visits, planting doubts about me, saying I wasn’t “nice” or that his house was so much “better” for Jamie.

“Sparkle was going to convince him that Denise was his real mother.”

And this wasn’t even the worst part.

Thomas and Denise were gearing up for a custody battle.

“Jamie already feels distant from you,” he said smugly. “The court will listen to that.”

But how could I stay composed? Especially when this madman was trying to take my entire world away from me.

My voice dropped dangerously low.

“You listen to me. I have this recording of yours. And by the way, my home security cameras? They caught you planting the device in Sparkle during your last ‘gift drop.’ Here’s how this is going to go, Thomas. You will stay the hell away from Jamie. No visits. No calls. Nothing.”

He sighed deeply.

“You try anything else, and I’ll take this straight to court. Good luck explaining your way out of that. You’re disgusting, Thomas.”

When I got home, Jamie was playing with his toys in the living room. He looked up and gave me the first genuine smile I’d seen in weeks.

“Mom! Where’s Sparkle? You took her along, didn’t you?”

“She’s back where she belongs,” I said softly. “And she only brings good messages now.”

Jamie nodded, satisfied with that answer.

“I’m not sure, darling. I think she just put herself on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Well… that’s not nice. Poor Sparkle.”

“Poor Sparkle, indeed. But she… You do know that everything Sparkle said was a lie, right?”

“I know.”

“Let’s have some ice cream, shall we?” I asked my boy.

Later, when I tucked him into bed, he clung to me a little longer than usual.

“Mom?” he said quietly.

“I’m glad that you’re my mom.”

Tears pricked my eyes, but I kept my voice steady.

“I’m glad, too, Jamie. More than anything. You’re my favorite person, little buddy.”

He drifted off to sleep, his little hand curled around mine.

Sparkle didn’t just bring magic that Christmas. She brought the truth to light and reminded me that I’d do anything to protect my son, no matter what.

And even if Thomas did resurface, I was prepared to fight tooth and nail.

But still, Jamie was mine. And that was the end of it.

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:

When Nella notices her husband, Eric, acting a bit strange, she follows him to see where he goes off to. A few nights into this new routine, she decides to just ask him the truth. But the truth is deeper and darker than Nella could have expected. And it changes her life forever…

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.