When Calla finds a lace robe hidden in her husband’s closet, she assumes that it’s a romantic surprise. But her world turns upside down when she sees her stepmother, Lorraine, wearing it. Suspicion mounts and tensions spiral as Calla overhears Lorraine’s true scheme…
When my dad passed away last year, it felt like the house lost its soul. He’d built that place himself, a sprawling two-story home that always smelled like pine and fresh paint.
After his death, my husband, Jason, our six-year-old daughter, Emma, and I moved in to help my stepmother, Lorraine.
A couple packing | Source: Midjourney
She and my dad had been married for five years, but Lorraine made sure that everyone knew she’d been his “rock” during his final days.
“You can’t deny it, darling,” she said to me after her speech at the funeral. “Seriously, Calla, if I went on my holiday to Thailand, your father would have died by himself. All alone. Poor thing.”
Living with her, though, was like walking on a tightrope. Everything about Lorraine was sharp—her stilettos, her words, even the way she eyed Jason when she thought I wasn’t looking.
An older woman in a black dress | Source: Midjourney
But family is family, and I tried to make it work.
Until I found the robe.
It started innocently enough. I was folding Jason’s laundry, something I did a thousand times without a second thought. As I opened his closet to hang up a shirt, I noticed something out of place.
There it was, a small glossy gift bag shoved into the corner, partly hidden beneath his jackets.
A glossy gift bag | Source: Midjourney
Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled it out, my pulse quickening when I saw what was inside: a lace robe, sheer and intimate.
My first thought was that Jason had bought it for me. Christmas was around the corner, and while he wasn’t exactly the romantic type, maybe this was his way of surprising me.
I smiled at the idea of him stepping out of his comfort zone.
A lace robe on a hanger | Source: Midjourney
If only that had been the truth.
A few days later, Lorraine called me into her room. Her voice was syrupy sweet, the kind of tone that always set me on edge. She had changed the room since my father passed. It was now a maroon, velvety… something. Luxurious yet somehow seductive… I couldn’t quite find the words to describe it.
“Oh, Calla, sweetheart,” she cooed. “You won’t believe what my new boyfriend got me!”
A maroon bedroom | Source: Midjourney
New boyfriend? Lorraine hadn’t mentioned anyone else before.
When I walked in, my stomach dropped.
There she was, draped in the robe, my robe. The one I’d found in Jason’s closet. She twirled, the lace floating around her like some cruel joke.
“You like it?” she purred, smirking at my expression. “He has exquisite taste, don’t you think? And I have a pair of heels that would make it look magical.”
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t breathe. My mind raced, piecing together a picture I didn’t want to see.
Was Jason…? No. He wouldn’t. Lorraine?
No. Never. Unless… Would he?
“Where… where did you get that?” I managed to stammer.
Lorraine’s smirk deepened.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, my boyfriend gave it to me,” she said. “I just told you, Calla! You’re not listening to a word I say, sweetheart! Don’t you worry, maybe you’ll get one too… Anyway, he’s discreet.”
My knees felt weak. Look, there could have been a logical explanation. But something felt so wrong. I stumbled out of her room, her laughter echoing behind me.
That night, I cornered Jason after reading with Emma. She had gone to sleep quickly, ready for her “Dress as your favorite character” day at school. She was going as Princess Belle.
A mom and daughter reading a book | Source: Midjourney
My heart was pounding, my hands shaking.
“Jason,” I began, my voice trembling. “I need to ask you something, and I want the truth.”
He looked up from the TV, confused.
“What’s wrong, honey?” he asked. “Hang on, let me pause this movie.”
A man lounging on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Did you… Did you give Lorraine a robe? The lace one I found in your closet?”
Jason’s face twisted in disbelief.
“What? No way! What are you talking about?”
“She showed me a robe before dinner tonight,” I said, tears threatening to spill. “The same one I found in your closet.”
A shocked young man | Source: Midjourney
Jason’s jaw dropped.
“You think I’d buy her something like that? Are you serious right now?”
“Then how did she get it?” I demanded.
“I don’t know,” he said, running his hand through his hair.
A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
His frustration seemed genuine, but doubt gnawed at me.
“I swear, I didn’t give her anything! Seriously, Calla. The only thing I’ve given Lorraine today was a piece of garlic bread at dinner.”
Over the next few days, I couldn’t shake the unease. Lorraine’s smug looks, Jason’s denial—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t solve.
A plate of garlic bread | Source: Midjourney
Then, one afternoon, as I organized Emma’s art supplies in the dining room, I heard Lorraine on the phone.
“Yes, Kerry, of course, I planted it,” she whispered. “That idiot husband of hers didn’t even notice. It’s only a matter of time before they’re at each other’s throats. Once they leave, this house will finally be mine. I’m telling you, that’s why they moved in. They want my house.”
My blood ran cold. She planned this. She had planned this!
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
She’d planted the robe in Jason’s closet to make it look like they were having an affair. All to drive us out of the house my dad had left behind.
That night, I told Jason everything I’d overheard. His face darkened with anger, and he crunched his beer can in his fist, spilling the final contents.
“She’s trying to ruin our marriage,” he said, his voice tight. “And to think that we uprooted Emma for this? This ends now.”
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
We hatched a plan.
The next morning, over coffee and bagels, I casually mentioned to Lorraine that Jason and I were considering moving out. Her face lit up, though she tried to hide it behind a thin veil of concern.
“Oh, well, if you think that’s best…” she said, barely containing her glee.
That evening, Jason and I invited a lawyer friend over for dinner, someone Lorraine didn’t recognize. We told her he was a “realtor” helping us look for new homes, but honestly, we just wanted to figure out where we stood. Lorraine spent most of the dinner talking about how much she preferred to live alone.
Bagels on a counter | Source: Midjourney
“I’m old now,” she said, as if she were trying to convince herself. “I need my space. And I’m sure you kids need yours. Don’t you want to give Emma a baby brother or sister?”
I wasn’t sure that I wanted the house, but Jason had persuaded me to fight.
“Come on, honey,” he said. “It’s important for you to have a piece of your father’s legacy. You are his legacy, yes. But he built this with his hands. This home has been around since you were a child. You want Lorraine to have it, really?”
An older woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know,” I said. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I want.”
A week later, we called a “family meeting” in the living room. Lorraine sauntered in, confident and smug, as if she’d already won.
Jason handed her a stack of papers.
“What’s this?” she asked, flipping through the pages.
A pile of paper on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
“It’s the deed to the house,” Jason said calmly. “We had it reviewed, and it turns out that Calla and I are the primary beneficiaries. You don’t own this house, Lorraine. We do.”
Her face went pale.
“That’s not possible. Calla! What did you do? Your father would never leave me with nothing…”
“He didn’t leave you with nothing, Lorraine,” I said. “He left you with a lot of money. But this is my childhood home. Of course, he’d want me to have it.”
A shocked older woman | Source: Midjourney
Lorraine started to protest, but Jason cut her off.
“And before you think about pulling another stunt, know this: we’re not going anywhere. But you might want to start packing.”
“Or you can see if your boyfriend will take you in?” I said nonchalantly.
Lorraine stammered, her sharp tongue suddenly useless.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“What? There’s no boyfriend?” I asked.
“I planned that! I staged the entire thing! There is no boyfriend, Calla. There is no cheating, which is what I wanted you to think. I wanted you to see the robe and know that… or think that something was going on.”
“I know,” I said. “I overheard you. But look, you have a week. I’ll give you that because it’s what my father would expect from me.”
“I’ll be better. I’ll do everything—the cooking, the cleaning, homework with Emma, you name it!” she begged.
An older woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t want my child around you,” I said simply. “I’m sorry, but that’s just how I feel.”
Within a week, Lorraine was gone. And I finally had peace in the home my dad had loved so much. I turned Lorraine’s bedroom into a reading room for myself, and half of it a playroom for Emma.
And that robe?
Lorraine had conveniently left it behind. I donated it to charity with the rest of the things she’d abandoned. Let someone else enjoy it because I sure as hell wasn’t keeping it.
A cozy reading room | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Suspected My Husband Was Cheating on Me and Followed Him One Day
When Lily and Jason’s son, Nathan, brings his fiancée home for the long weekend, Lily is excited to get to know the young woman. But during that weekend, she notices her husband acting strange. So, she tries to uncover what is going on with Jason — only to open a can of worms with secrets wriggling everywhere.
From the moment Nathan introduced us to his fiancée, I knew something was off.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t sweet or lovely, because she was. Her name was Tessa, and she’d come to Chicago with Nathan from his college in Michigan to spend a long weekend with us and meet the family.
A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney
My son and his new beau had been dating for over a year, and she’d just been a name until now. Now that she was here, I could see why my son was head-over-heels. Tessa was sharp, funny, and kind in a genuine way.
Within minutes, my eight-year-old daughter, Sophie, was practically glued to her side.
But my husband, Jason, was different that night. Usually, he’s animated and easygoing, especially around Nathan and his friends. But when Tessa was around, he was quiet, almost as if he were retreating into himself.
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
It was strange. Very strange.
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.
Neighborhood Drama: My Mom’s Garden, the Thieves, and My Daring Revenge
Equipped with dash cam footage and a creative streak, Amber made a funny poster known as the “wall of shame” to deter her mother’s garden thieves. Although Amber’s audacious retaliation became the talk of the town, not everyone thought her billboard was funny.
There are benefits to residing in a charming suburban community in Texas. The light always seems to be shining just perfectly, the air smells like freshly cut grass, and the gardens—oh, the gardens—are breathtaking. The jewel in our street’s crown was my mother’s garden.
She put everything she had into it—planting every plant, tending to every flower, and painstakingly placing each garden accent. However, her joy and pride had recently been the object of some extremely thoughtless, sticky-fingered neighbors.
By the way, my name is Amber, and this is my story about why I chose to take revenge on my mother’s garden.
Small-scale thefts were initially committed. One day a garden gnome went gone, the next a potted plant vanished. Mom initially believed she was going insane.
“Perhaps I lost it,” she would murmur, her brow twisted in perplexity.
But then, over night, whole plant bulbs began to disappear. The most detrimental aspect? Her beloved tulips, which she had spent years honing, were there. Mom was heartbroken, and I was enraged.
The robbers even started carting stolen Mom’s garden statuary! One of the stolen gnomes was her favorite, a little ceramic elf with a mischievous grin that seemed to bring the garden to life.
And the plants, oh, the plants! Whole flowerbeds tramped over, roses stripped of their petals, young saplings removed and allowed to wither.
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It was more than just annoying.
One morning at breakfast, I said, “There has to be someone nearby.” “Who else would sneak around our garden in the middle of the night?”
With misted eyes, Mom sighed. “Amber, I simply do not understand. Why would someone act in this manner?
“I’ll find out,” I said, resolutely fixed in my jaw. “And when I do, they’ll regret ever messing with your garden.”
At first, I had no idea how I would apprehend these plant robbers, but then it dawned on me: the dash cam.
My vehicle was facing Mom’s garden when it was parked in the driveway. I configured it to continuously record in the hopes of apprehending the offenders.
I watched the video a week later. Bingo!
There they were, several of our nosy neighbors, slipping into the garden under the cover of darkness. They dug, plucked, and stole one by one. It made my blood boil to watch them.
I recognized several of them immediately.
There was Mr. Green from across the street, who I’d once caught staring at Mom’s roses; there was Mrs. Parker from two doors down, who was always chatting up everyone about their business; and there were even the Watson twins, who were known for getting into trouble.
It resembled a blatant parade that was taking place in our own backyard.
However, then a thought emerged. I would give them a stage if they wanted to create a show out of themselves.
Over the next three days, I worked on creating a poster that would deter any would-be burglar.
It had sharp pictures of our petty neighbors with clever captions underneath each one.
“Mr. Potato Head” gave a shy smile while he picked up a garden gnome. “Petal Pilferer” held a bunch of her mother’s tulips as if it were a prize. The pièce de résistance, of course, is “Pothead” hoisting a potted fern.
And my masterpiece’s title? “Go Away Without Us! Stealing makes you appear like a real sap, so avoid becoming a garden thief!”
It was priceless to see Mom’s response when she saw the poster
Amber laughed so hard she almost sobbed, saying, “Amber, this is brilliant!” “Let’s put it up right away.”
The poster was prominently displayed in our front yard for everyone to see. And wow, was it noticed by many?
Our front yard was a tourist destination by the next morning. Soon, the entire neighborhood was bustling as cars slowed down and pedestrians paused to take pictures and stare.
Reactions were varied and quick
While some of our neighbors smiled and praised our inventiveness, others ran past, clearly embarrassed and afraid they would be up next on our wall of shame. It was everything I hoped for and more.
I was inside, having my morning coffee, when I observed a group of kids snapping photos in front of the billboard. I couldn’t resist grinning. “Well, Mom, I think we’ve made quite the impression.”
Mom’s eyes glistened with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement as she peered out the window. “All right. Now perhaps they will reconsider before tampering with my garden.”
A knock on the door cut short our conversation just then. When I opened it, there was a cameraman accompanying a youthful, enthusiastic reporter who was holding a microphone.
“Hello, this is Julie from News Channel 5. We would be delighted to discuss your… innovative strategy for combating garden thieves with you.”
Mom and I looked at each other.
I said, “Sure, come on in,” and moved aside to make room for them.
For the next thirty minutes, we talked about the dash cam footage, the thefts, and our choice to hang the poster.
I could see the reporter savoring it, and Mom’s love for her garden was evident
Julie grinned at us as they gathered up their gear. This has the makings of a fantastic tale. I appreciate your time.
The altercations started soon after the news crew left. First up was Mr. Thompson, father of the teenage boy caught red-handed. He stormed up our driveway, his face as red as a tomato.
“How dare you embarrass my son like this!” he shouted, waving his finger in my face. “He was just trying to bring flowers to his sick girlfriend!”
I crossed my arms, unimpressed. “Really, Mr. Thompson? At midnight? From my mom’s garden? Does he have a problem with knocking on the door to ask if he can have flowers?”
He snarled something unpleasant under his breath before turning on his heel and stomping off.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, that went well.”
The next confrontation was a bit more pathetic.
Mr. Jenkins, an older man with a perpetually worried expression, shuffled up to our porch holding a plant cutting. He avoided eye contact while he spoke.
“I, uh, think my wife took this by mistake,” he murmured. “She’s on the town’s board of directors, you know. Can we keep this between us?”
Mom’s mischievous eyes twinkled. “Tell her to make like a bee and buzz off.”
Word got around like wildfire. Some neighbors thought the poster was brilliant, a long-overdue stand against petty theft.
Others thought we’d gone too far, turning what should’ve been a private matter into a public spectacle. At the town meeting that evening, opinions were split right down the middle.
“I think it’s great that someone finally did something about it!” As she spoke, Mrs. Collins clapped her hands. “People should respect other people’s property!”
“But it’s humiliating!” Mr. Perez got into a dispute. “You’re turning the neighborhood into a circus!”
Mom and I stayed put during the spirited arguments.
When the neighbors threatened lawsuits, we reminded them that we could also sue for theft and trespassing. That shut them up pretty quickly.
Back home, Mom and I settled into our usual evening routine. She tended to her newly flourishing garden while I kept an eye on the front yard, still bustling with activity.
A couple of college kids were taking a video in front of the poster, narrating the whole saga for their followers.
“Looks like we’ve gone viral,” I remarked, swiping through my phone. “We’re all over social media.”
Mom smiled, her eyes softening. “All right. Maybe now they’ll think twice before messing with anyone’s garden.”
In the weeks that followed, the thefts stopped completely. Mom’s garden started to grow like crazy. The grass turned greener, fresh flowers opened, and even the garden gnomes appeared to smile a little more broadly.
The poster remained up, serving as a daily reminder to appreciate the labor and assets of others.
The poster quickly became the stuff of local legend.
Visitors from nearby communities stopped by merely to take pictures and exchange anecdotes. It came to represent the tenacity of the community and the value of standing up for what is right.
Mom turned to face me one evening while we were enjoying the cool Texas breeze on the porch. Her eyes were beaming with pride.
“Without you, Amber, I couldn’t have completed this. I appreciate you defending my garden and me.”
I grinned as a wave of warmth passed through my chest. “What can I do for you, Mom? Anything at all for you.”
And as the sun descended on our idyllic suburban neighborhood, I realized that we had strengthened our bonds as a community in addition to safeguarding Mom’s garden.
Because in the end, it wasn’t just about the flowers or the gnomes. It was about respect, resilience, and the power of standing up for what’s right.
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