When Judy discovers that her teenage son has been stealing and using his grandmother’s money to satisfy his gaming addiction, she has no choice but to teach him a lesson that he will never forget.
I’ve always heard about there being one child in every family who just goes overboard and does stupid things.
I didn’t expect my son to be that child in our family.
A smiling teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
My teenage son, Brandon, like most teenage boys his age, had gotten into gaming. And whenever a new game came out, he would get obsessed over it and watch the trailers, begging me to buy it.
“It’s ridiculous, Brandon,” I would say firmly. “I’m not giving you money for stupid games.”
But he was as persistent as they came. And when the latest version of his favorite game came out, he would whine and plead daily.
A teenage boy playing on a computer | Source: Midjourney
“Please, Mom,” he would ask at every opportunity. “Please, just this game and I won’t ask for anything else.”
“Brandon, I’ve already said no,” I would say. “Please, stop nagging. This discussion is over.”
Then, a week ago, the whining stopped. Brandon retreated to his room and was stuck behind his computer again, talk of the game long forgotten.
I was relieved, thinking that he had finally moved past this phase.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know how else to tell him that we cannot spend money on video games,” I told my husband, Liam.
“I know,” he agreed. “It’s time that Brandon realizes that there’s more to life than just sitting behind a computer. And if he insists on it, then it’s time to get a part-time job to pay for his games.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
Everything seemed fine as we settled back into our routine.
Until I received a panicked call from my mom.
“My savings for the funeral! They disappeared!” Her voice trembled with fear and confusion. “Judy, they’re gone!”
A shocked old woman | Source: Midjourney
Now, I should probably explain this part:
My mother is as eccentric as they come. And for the past three years, she has gotten it into her head that she needs to save up for her funeral. She’s healthy as can be, but it’s something that she does as a comfort.
“It’s not my fault, Judy,” she would say. “Some of my friends are passing away now, and I have to be prepared, too.”
An urn on a stool | Source: Midjourney
She would pick up her paintbrushes and splash wet paint all over her studio as she spoke.
“And it’s okay if you think I’m crazy, darling,” she would continue. “But at the end of the day, I have to do what gives me peace of mind.”
Since then, my mother had been putting away money each month.
A person holding a paintbrush | Source: Midjourney
“Where are you storing it, Mom?” I asked her one day. “Please tell me that you have a separate bank account.”
“No, Judy,” she replied, her eyes wide. “Then we definitely won’t get it out in time for you to use for my funeral. No, it’s in a little wooden box under my bed.”
“That’s not safe, Mom,” I replied. “Anyone could get to it!”
A little wooden box | Source: Midjourney
“My neighborhood is safe, darling,” she said. “Don’t you worry about that. I just need you to know where it is when you need it. You know, when the time comes.”
Little did I know, my son had heard this entire conversation.
“Calm down, Mom. I’m sure that there’s an explanation for this,” I said, trying to soothe her.
A woman on the phone | Source: Midjourney
It took hours to calm her down, and every time I thought she was okay, she would burst into tears all over again.
“I should have listened to you, Judy,” she cried. “Keeping the money lying around was a very stupid thing to do.”
But as I hung up, I knew two things: who was at fault and what I was going to do.
A sad old woman | Source: Midjourney
A week earlier, Liam and I had gone away for the weekend to celebrate our anniversary, and we had left Brandon with my mother.
He had been present when my mother and I had the conversation about her savings and the little wooden box that held it.
I could remember him sitting at her kitchen table, eating the cookies she had made for him, and listening intently to the conversation.
Cookies on a plate | Source: Midjourney
“Gran is really worried about dying?” he asked me in the car.
“It’s normal for her to be worried,” I replied.
Now, I pieced together the story quickly. Brandon must have thought that my mother wouldn’t notice the missing money. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t care about the consequences.
A woman driving | Source: Midjourney
All he had wanted was to satisfy his gaming obsession.
“Brandon, do you know anything about Grandma’s missing money?” I asked him later that evening as we cooked dinner together.
My son’s face paled in front of me.
A shocked teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
“No, why would I know anything about that?” he replied, a little too quickly. “Gran didn’t tell me.”
By that point, I was certain that it was him. His tone was all off, and I had offered him a chance to confess.
The following weekend, he begged to spend the night at my mother’s house.
A smiling teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
“Please, Mom,” he said. “I’m sure Gran isn’t feeling too safe at the moment.”
I allowed it, thinking that he’d try to sneak the money back.
And sure enough, when I went to pick him up, my mother opened the door beaming.
“You’ll never guess what!” she said, pulling me into a tight hug.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
“What happened?” I asked, curiosity taking over me.
“Last night, after Brandon and I had dinner, he asked me about the money and said that he wanted to check my room,” she said.
“Oh, he said that, huh?” I asked.
A stack of dollars | Source: Midjourney
“Yes! And he found it! He said that I must have misplaced it, and I guess that maybe I did. Most of it is there, except for about $100, but I could have used that on my nails last week for all I know.”
“I’m glad you found it, Mom,” I said earnestly, but inside, I was seething.
The plan was simple. I texted Liam and told him everything, asking him to call for a family meeting later that evening. We needed to teach Brandon a lesson that he wouldn’t forget any time soon.
A person using their phone | Source: Midjourney
After dinner, Liam stood up.
“We need to have a family meeting now,” he said. “It’s important. Don’t worry about the dishes, love, we can do it later.”
Brandon and I followed Liam into the living room and we sat down.
A teenager sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Brandon, Gran told me about you finding her money last night. Her memory seems to be going, doesn’t it? Maybe we should consider a nursing home?”
Liam nodded his head slowly.
“Look, Judy, I know that it’s painful to think about. But maybe that will be the best thing, if she’s worried about her memory.”
A close-up of a man | Source: Midjourney
“What? No! She’s fine!” Brandon protested, his eyes wide with panic.
“Well, she’s lost her money once. What if it’s her keys or she forgets to take her medication or put the stove off?” my husband added, playing his part perfectly.
My son’s face turned a deep shade of red.
A close-up of a teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
“She didn’t lose the money! It was there all along!” he said.
“So, you’re saying that Grandma’s lying?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I’m saying that maybe she’s just confused,” he said, squirming in his seat.
“If she’s that confused, then maybe a nursing home is best,” I replied.
An old woman at a nursing home | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow,” my husband said.
Finally, Brandon’s façade crumbled.
“Okay, okay! I took the money! I’m sorry! But I just wanted to buy my game. I didn’t think that it would cause so much trouble.”
We let him sit in silence for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging in the air.
An upset teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
“Brandon, stealing is wrong. And lying about it makes it worse,” I said softly. “You’re going to have to make this right.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll get a summer job and pay Grandma back. I promise.”
“That’s a start,” I said. “But you also need to apologize to Grandma. And you’re going to tell her the truth. Not me. And you’re grounded from using your computer until you’ve paid back every cent. Do you understand?”
A close-up of a stern woman | Source: Midjourney
Brandon nodded, tears streaming down his face.
“I will, I promise. I’ll get a job at the ice cream place and I’ll make everything right.”
Of course, he had no other choice.
An ice cream store | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you.
My Kids Listed My House on Airbnb While I Was in the Hospital — I Found a Way to Teach Them a Lesson
Mariah had been feeling less than healthy lately, causing her to admit herself to the hospital so that she could have a check-up. But in her absence, her children decided to rent out her house as an Airbnb, ready to pocket the money for themselves. When Mariah found out, she decided to teach them a lesson.
“I want you to tell Denise to book it,” I said. “But they’ll recognize that it’s her, so she’s probably going to need to create a new account. Do you think she’ll be okay with that?”
A phone opened to an Airbnb app | Source: Pexels
“Of course, she will!” Liz said. “Anything for you. But then what?”
“I’m getting discharged tomorrow,” I said. “But the kids think that I’ll be here until the end of the week. So, let them think that they’re going to make some money off the place.”
A close-up of a woman’s IV and hospital band | Source: Midjourney
“You want Denise to rent the place, but you want to mess it up?” Liz chuckled. “That’s devious.”
“No, my children are devious,” I said.
I hung up the call, and the nurse brought my lunch to me, ready to leave me alone to eat while she did her rounds.
Read the full story here.
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.
5 Tales of Husbands Who Kept Life-Altering Secrets – Until the Truth Came Out
His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he seemed to drift off during our conversations, especially when we talked about the baby.
“Maybe he’s just stressed about work,” I reassured myself, pushing away the nagging doubt that had been creeping in. Yet, that night, as we sat down for dinner, I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Ethan, are you okay?” I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil I felt inside.
He looked up, startled as if pulled from some deep thought.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, his tone unconvincing. He shifted in his seat and looked away, his hands fidgeting with the napkin in his lap.
“Are you sure? You’ve seemed… distracted lately,” I pressed gently, reaching for his hand.
He sighed, squeezing my hand briefly before pulling away.
“It’s just work. They’re being tough about the paternity leave. I talked to my boss, and he’s not very supportive. He’s hinted that if I take the leave, I could lose my job.”
The words hung in the air, and I felt like I had been doused with cold water. Lose his job? That wasn’t what we had planned for! We needed his income, especially now!
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t want to stress you out,” he replied, his gaze dropping to the table. “I thought I could figure it out.”
A knot tightened in my chest. Why did it feel like there was more he wasn’t saying? But I forced myself to smile, trying to be supportive.
“We’ll get through it, my love. We always do.”
He gave me a small, strained smile in return, but it did little to ease my worry. As I cleared the dishes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
The following week, I found myself at the grocery store, my mind still tangled with worry. I wandered the aisles aimlessly, unsure what to buy or even what we needed. It felt like my life was spinning out of control, and I was grasping at straws to hold it together.
“Sarah! Is that you?” a familiar voice suddenly called out, bursting my bubble of stress.
I turned to see Amanda, Ethan’s boss’s wife, pushing a cart down the aisle. Amanda had always been cheerful and outgoing, her smile lighting up any room she entered. We’d known each other since university, and though we weren’t close friends, we shared a casual camaraderie.
“Amanda, hi!” I greeted her with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “It’s good to see you!”
“How are YOU holding up girl?” Amanda asked, her gaze flickering briefly to my belly. “And how’s that precious baby bundle coming along?”
“We’re doing fine,” I replied, though the lie tasted bitter. “Just a little stressed. Ethan’s been having trouble with his paternity leave.”
Amanda frowned, genuine confusion crossing her face.
“Trouble? I thought Ethan’s leave was approved without any issues. My husband even mentioned how happy he was for him to take some time off to be with you.”
The words were like a punch to my gut.
I stared at Amanda, my mind racing. “Are you sure?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling slightly.
“Absolutely! Hubby thought it was great for Ethan to take the leave, especially now. It’s all been sorted out.”
A cold sense of dread washed over me. Why would my husband lie about something like that? What was he hiding?
“Um, thanks, Amanda,” I muttered quickly, forcing another smile. “I really need to get going.”
I hurried through the rest of my shopping, my thoughts a chaotic mess of confusion and fear. Back home, I paced the kitchen, replaying the conversation over and over in my head. If Ethan’s leave had been approved, why would he say otherwise?
Then my eyes landed on his phone, left carelessly on the kitchen counter as he took a shower. My heart pounded as I picked it up. I hesitated, guilt gnawing at me. But the need for answers overpowered my hesitation.
I immediately opened his family chat, scrolling through messages, each one like a dagger to my heart. My instincts had told me his parents, who didn’t quite approve of me, were involved in all of this and I was right.
In a recent conversation, Ethan’s mom had texted, “Ethan, you really don’t need to take time off for the baby. Sarah’s mom can help. We need you here for the renovations.”
His dad replied, “Exactly. It’s not like you’ll be far away. You can come home on weekends.”
Ethan responded “I know. I’ll take the leave and come over to help. Sarah will understand.”
My breath caught in my throat.
He was planning to take paternity leave, not to be with me and our baby, but to help his parents with house renovations? I felt the world around me shatter.
My mind spun with disbelief, anger, and heartbreak. How could he do this to me, to our unborn child? I had imagined sharing this precious time together, but he had chosen his parents over his family. Tears blurred my vision as I quickly took pictures of the messages for proof.
Later, we had dinner together, and I pretended nothing was wrong as I made my mental plan.
By the time Ethan came home the following evening, I had already made up my mind. I decided I couldn’t stay with someone who would betray my trust so easily, especially at a time when we should be united.
“I got fired,” he announced to the empty house as soon as he arrived. My mother told me later that’s what his mom told her.
He looked around the house, noticing my absence. Then, his eyes fell on the envelope I had left on the kitchen table, addressed to him in my handwriting.
With trembling hands, he opened the letter and read the words that would seal our fate.
Ethan,
I found the messages from your parents. You lied to me about the paternity leave. If you can lie about something so important, how can I trust you with our future? I need honesty, especially now. I’m leaving because I deserve better, and so does our baby.
I’ve sent the pictures of your messages to your boss, and that’s why you were fired. I cannot stay with someone who would betray me like this, especially at a time when we should be united. I’m going to file for divorce.
Goodbye,
Sarah.
Ethan stood there, stunned and broken, staring at the letter. He had lost everything: his job, his wife, and the chance to be a present father in his child’s life, all because of his lies and choices.
I, on the other hand, knew I had made the right decision. As I sat in my parents’ living room, holding my growing belly, I realized that the future I had imagined with Ethan was gone. But I also knew I had to be strong for my baby and myself. It was time to start a new chapter, one built on truth and integrity.
Sacrificing for Our Baby
Growing up, I was a troubled teenager, the kind who made people shake their heads and mutter that I’d never amount to anything. But I found solace in studying the brain, understanding how it works, and what makes us tick.
Becoming a neurologist helped redeem me. It was a way to prove to myself and everyone else that I could do something meaningful. For years, the satisfaction of helping people gave me purpose. Yet, it wasn’t just the work itself that fulfilled me; it was the life I built around it… a life with my husband.
When we first got married, I was the breadwinner, and James supported me in every way possible. My husband of four years worked in marketing, earning significantly less than I did, but we never let money define our roles or our happiness.
From the very beginning, he and I had agreed that having children wasn’t a priority for us. If we were ever to consider kids, adoption was the preferred route. Biological children? I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic either. I liked my life the way it was: predictable, structured, and driven by my career.
But everything changed the day his best friend had a baby boy.
I still remember the moment James held that tiny bundle of joy for the first time. His entire demeanor softened, and his eyes filled with a tenderness I’d never seen before.
He suddenly started talking about having a child of our own, painting this picture of a life I’d never envisioned for myself. I tried to brush it off, telling myself it was just a phase, but life decided for us when I unexpectedly found out I was pregnant.
“What do we do now?” I asked him that evening, clutching the positive pregnancy test in one hand and my composure in the other.
“Let’s keep it! We’ll make it work,” he replied without hesitation, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
And so, despite my reservations, I agreed.
We came to a compromise: My husband would quit his job and become a stay-at-home dad once the baby arrived, allowing me to continue pursuing my demanding career. It seemed like a logical plan; a perfect balance between parenthood and professional aspirations. But I was so wrong…
When our daughter, Lily, was born, everything shifted.
The moment I held her, I knew I’d never regret having her. Yet, a part of me was still desperate to hold on to the life I’d carefully built before her arrival. Soon, my short maternity leave came to an end, and I found myself booked for a medical conference out of state.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked James before leaving. He stood in the doorway, cradling Lily with that same tender look he had the first time he held her.
“Don’t worry, Rachel. We’ll be fine. You just focus on your work, okay?”
“Call me if you need anything,” I insisted, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.
My husband smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I will.”
But when I returned from the conference, everything felt different. James was distant, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something darker and more strained.
“Hey, how was the conference?” he asked, his gaze fixated on a spot somewhere beyond me.
“Good,” I replied cautiously. “How’s everything here?”
He shrugged, his face a mask of indifference. “Fine. Just… tired, I guess.”
Alarm bells rang in my head. “Tired?” I echoed. “What’s going on, babe?”
He hesitated, then spoke quietly, his voice tinged with something I hadn’t heard before; fear.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Rachel.”
“Do what?” I asked, though I already knew where this was heading.
“THIS… staying home with Lily. I feel trapped. Overwhelmed.”
His confession hit me like a sledgehammer!
“You said you could handle it. You agreed to this!”
“I know, but it’s harder than I thought. I’m not cut out for this,” he moaned.
“So, what are you suggesting? That I give up my career? Extend my maternity leave?”
“No, I just… maybe we could look into daycare?” he replied.
“Daycare?” I stared at him in disbelief. “We talked about this. We agreed that I’d go back to work and you’d stay home with Lily.”
“I know, but…”
“I made sacrifices, James!” My voice rose in frustration. “I pushed myself back into work mode for us. You knew how important this was for me!”
“And I made sacrifices too!” he shot back, his voice breaking. “I quit my job, Rachel. My career is gone.”
Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. Lily’s soft cries echoed from the nursery, and my husband glanced over his shoulder like a man about to shatter.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I just need help.”
For the first time since Lily’s birth, I realized the depth of his struggle. I wasn’t the only one fighting to keep everything together. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal. James had promised, and now he wanted to back out?
The next few days were a blur of strained conversations and forced smiles. We barely spoke, each of us retreating into our separate worlds. I spent more time at work, and he spent more time avoiding eye contact.
Finally, one evening, after putting Lily to bed, I sat down beside him on the couch.
“We need to figure this out, James.”
He nodded, though he didn’t meet my gaze. “Yeah, I know.”
“This isn’t working. We’re both miserable, and our daughter deserves better.”
“What do you want me to do, Rachel?” he snapped, frustration leaking into his voice. “I’m doing my best here.”
“Maybe we need help,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Maybe we rushed into this.”
“What are you saying?” His voice cracked. “You regret having Lily?”
“No! But I regret that we’re failing her.”
He looked away, pain etched into his features. “So, what do we do?”
“I’ve hired a nanny.”
His head whipped around, disbelief flooding his eyes. “What? A nanny? We can’t afford that!”
“Yes, we can,” I said firmly. “You’ll start working from home again, and all your income will go toward paying her. We’ll find a way.”
The argument that followed was heated, but I stood my ground. My husband wanted to be there for Lily, but he needed help. And if I couldn’t be there, then I’d make sure someone else was.
Claire, our new nanny, started the following Monday. She was a godsend. She was calm, experienced, and exactly what James needed. Slowly, he began to find his footing again. The tension in our home eased, and for the first time since our daughter’s birth, there was a sense of peace.
One evening, as I watched James feed Lily with a gentle smile on his face, I knew I’d made the right decision. Maybe things would never be perfect, but we were finding a new normal.
“I’m sorry,” he said one night, his voice low and sincere. “I should’ve been more supportive.”
“I’m sorry too,” I whispered back. “I should’ve listened and communicated my plans more.”
It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start. We were learning to navigate this new life together, one day at a time. As we sat on the porch that evening, watching the stars twinkle above us, I felt a glimmer of hope.
We still had a long way to go, but as long as we faced it together, I knew we could make it work.
The Secret Behind the Sale
The golden light of the setting sun bathed the porch in a soft glow, and I swayed gently on the swing, listening to the rhythmic creak of its chains. Mark stood before me, his eyes filled with a familiar intensity.
“We need more space if we want to start a family, Layla. This place is just too small,” he said, his voice tinged with an earnestness that tugged at my heart.
Little did I know that conversation would change the trajectory of my life.
I glanced around, taking in the cozy house and its blooming garden, framed by the white picket fence that my parents had installed for us. This house was more than just a home; it was a gift from my parents when we married a year ago, a symbol of their love and support for our new life together.
“But Mark, this house is perfect,” I replied softly, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving it behind. “My parents were so generous with this gift.”
My husband sighed and sat down beside me on the swing, his presence comforting yet somehow distant. He took my hand, his fingers warm against my cool skin.
“I know, sweetheart. But think about the future. A bigger house means more room for a nursery and a backyard for our child or children to play in. It’s a step forward, a step toward the life we’ve been dreaming about.”
His words painted a beautiful picture; one filled with laughter, late-night feedings, and watching our children take their first steps in a spacious, sunlit room. But as enchanting as it sounded, something about it didn’t sit right with me.
I looked around at the roses we had planted together, the cozy living room where we spent countless evenings curled up on the couch, and the kitchen where we cooked our first meal as husband and wife.
Could I really leave all this behind?
“Are you sure this is what we need to do?” I asked, searching his face for any hint of hesitation, any sign that he, too, was struggling with this decision.
But my husband’s gaze was steady, unwavering.
“I know it’s hard, my angel. But we’ll create new memories in the new house. It’ll be our home, where we’ll raise our children and build our future together.”
I knew he was right, or at least, I wanted to believe he was. I trusted Mark and his vision for our future. If moving to a bigger house was what he thought we needed, then I would follow him, no matter how difficult it was to let go.
“Alright,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We’ll sell the house… for our future.”
Mark’s smile was radiant, his relief palpable. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his lips brushing against my hair.
“Thank you, my love. I promise you, it’ll be worth it!”
I agreed with a heavy heart.
Within weeks, our cozy little house was on the market, and buyers were lining up. I couldn’t shake the sense of loss that lingered, but Mark’s enthusiasm and optimism kept me from voicing my doubts.
He assured me we would find the perfect home, one that I would fall in love with just as much as this one.
“It’s the right decision, Lay. You’ll see, it’s for the best,” he said, sealing another moving box with tape.
I nodded, even though my heart felt as if it were being squeezed.
The living room, now filled with boxes labeled “Kitchen,” “Books,” and “Decor,” seemed foreign, stripped of its warmth and familiarity. We were set to move out the following day, staying with Mark’s parents for a few days until he revealed the “surprise” of our new home.
Everything felt rushed, but I pushed my concerns aside. My husband knew what he was doing… or so I thought.
That’s when my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
“Hey, Layla. I heard you guys sold the house. I’m so happy Mark finally confessed to you. You deserve to know the truth,” the stranger texted.
I stared at the screen, confusion swirling in my mind. Confessed? What truth?
My fingers trembled as I typed back, “Who is this? What confession?”
A few moments later, my phone buzzed again.
“Ummm… It’s Candice, Mark’s ex. Oh, so he didn’t… YOU NEED TO CHECK THE ATTIC.”
Candice? Mark’s ex? My heart raced as a sense of dread washed over me. Why would she be reaching out now? And what could possibly be in the attic that she felt the need to warn me about?
The attic door creaked as I slowly pushed it open, revealing a dusty, dimly lit space filled with old boxes and forgotten items. I hesitated, fear and curiosity battling within me.
What could be up here?
I began searching through the boxes, my heart pounding harder with each breath.
After what felt like an eternity, I spotted a small wooden chest tucked away in the corner, partially hidden beneath a stack of old blankets. I hadn’t noticed it before.
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