Elise Stevens, 37, shares her incredible story of finding love with her bodyguard…
Stroking my baby’s forehead, I tried to block out my boyfriend’s hateful words.
“She’s ill because of something you’ve done,” he snarled.
It was 2008, and I’d only given birth to our daughter, Gracie, four weeks before.
The pregnancy had been unexpected, and Chris, 26, and I barely knew each other when I found out, but I didn’t want to be a single mum, so I’d decided to give him a go.
I’d moved in with him in a town 450km from my family, and Chris had turned nasty within days.
He was controlling and wouldn’t let me use my phone or leave the house without him.
I hoped things would improve when I brought Gracie home, but it only got worse.
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Now Gracie had meningitis, and he was blaming me.
Once Chris left, a nurse approached me.
“Are you okay, honey?” she asked.
I shook my head.
If I don’t get out now, I never will, I thought.
Taking a deep breath, I told her everything, and afterwards, she handed me her mobile.
“Call someone to come and get you,” she said.
I called my mum, who brought Gracie and me home.
We didn’t have the best relationship, so I went to live with my good friend Kadie instead.
Once Chris realised I was gone, he kept messaging, but I ignored him.
After three months, Gracie and I moved into our own apartment, and things started looking up.
Only Chris refused to let me go that easily.
One day, he messaged me, telling me he was in my town.
I’m off the booze now. Can we meet and talk about things, he wrote.
I desperately wanted Gracie to have the close family I’d never had.
“Maybe we should give Daddy another shot,” I told her.
I agreed to go and meet him at his friend’s house, but I was barely through the front door when Chris punched me to the ground while Gracie was in my arms.
“Who said you could leave me?” he roared, raining punches down on me.
He beat and choked me until his friend turned up and stopped him.
Grabbing Gracie, who was unharmed, I ran from the house.
In shock, I left Gracie with a friend and went to the pub with Kadie to help calm my nerves.
Within an hour, Chris turned up.
“Can I talk to you outside?” he said.
I agreed, terrified of what he’d do if I didn’t.
But as soon as we were outside, he turned on me again, pushing me down some stairs and then headbutting me.
Luckily, Kadie rescued me, ripping the two of us apart.
“Run,” she screamed.
I sprinted to my friend’s house, who had Gracie, and called the police.
I gave a statement and was taken to hospital, where I was treated for my injuries, including two cracked vertebrae.
Chris was arrested and released on bail.
“What if he comes back and hurts us?” I fretted to Kadie.
She had an idea.
“Do you remember my friend Derek?” she asked.
“Vaguely,” I replied.
“He could be your bodyguard,” she suggested.
It sounded ridiculous, but I was desperate, so I called him, explaining my situation.
“I’m willing to pay $155 a night for you to stay at my house,” I said. “I just want to feel safe.”
“I won’t stay at yours,” he said. “But you and Gracie can move in with me.”
We moved into Derek’s spare bedroom the next day, and straightaway I felt protected.
He was so kind and caring, and doted on Gracie.
We’d often spend time together in the evenings, cooking dinner and watching films.
In time, Chris Stieg, 27, was jailed for two and a half months for his assault on me.
It allowed me to relax for a change.
That’s when I realised I was getting butterflies whenever Derek was around.
Then, one day, Gracie said her first word.
“Dada,” she gurgled.
Derek and I looked at each other in surprise.
“I think she just called you Dad,” I cried.
“I think she did, too,” Derek chuckled.
Suddenly, I couldn’t hold my feelings back any longer.
“I think I love you Derek,” I blurted out.
As soon as the words popped out of my mouth, I regretted them.
The shocked look on Derek’s face told me he didn’t feel the same way.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t like you like that.”
My heart sank.
“I think it’s best if Gracie and I move out,” I said. “It’s too confusing for her.”
We moved into my grandmother’s house the next day.
Mortified, I didn’t tell anyone about what had happened.
Two weeks later, Derek showed up at my door.
“I’ve made a mistake,” he said. “I love you, and I want you to come back.”
Being apart, he’d realised how much he missed us.
Feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl, I jumped into his arms and kissed him.
Gracie and I moved back in, a happy family.
But our joy came to a halt when I received a letter from Chris’s legal team announcing he was filing for full custody.
“I have no job, so I’ll never get full custody,” I cried to Derek.
“No, but I do,” Derek said. “And if we get married, it proves you have support.”
Two days later, we stood on a dock in front of our family and friends and exchanged our vows.
Everyone had chipped in to make it a day we’d remember.
I got full custody of Gracie and we never heard from Chris again.
It’s been 15 years since I married my bodyguard and the love of my life.
Since then, we’ve welcomed a daughter, Rhilynn, 12, and a son, Trask, 11.
Chris left me with a lot of trauma, but having the love and support of my family has helped me through it.
My happily ever after finally came true.
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