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.
I Attended My Husband’s Office Party for the First Time, but I Never Expected to See His Other ‘Wife’ There
When Jennifer stumbled upon an email inviting her husband to a glamorous New Year’s party with a plus-one allowed, her curiosity was piqued. But what she uncovered at the event shattered her trust, setting the stage for an unexpected twist of fate.
The laptop pinged, interrupting the movie we were watching. Oliver had just gone to the bathroom, leaving his laptop open on the coffee table.
An open laptop | Source: Pexels
I glanced at the screen, the glowing subject line catching my eye.
“Dear Mr. Oliver,
We are happy to announce the New Year party is coming up! Dress code: White Party. You may bring your plus-one (your wife). Address…”
A shocked woman looking at her laptop | Source: Pexels
I blinked, rereading the email. His company never allowed plus-ones. Never. I couldn’t count the number of times I had heard him complain about it. Yet, there it was in black and white—plus-one (your wife).
When Oliver came back, I tried to play it cool, though my curiosity was bubbling. “Your office is throwing a New Year’s party?” I asked casually.
An excited woman looking at her laptop | Source: Pexels
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, picking up his laptop and closing it before I could say more. “Nothing big. Just the usual end-of-year stuff.”
“Can I come?” I asked, tilting my head and smiling.
He froze for half a second before brushing it off. “No, they don’t allow guests. It’s more of a work event.”
I frowned. “But the email said—”
A frowning woman on the couch | Source: Pexels
“They don’t, Jen. Trust me.” His tone was clipped, and he didn’t meet my eyes. “Anyway, I’ll just be working that night. No big deal.”
That was the first time I felt something strange. Oliver always worked late or traveled for business, so I had gotten used to him being away. I trusted him, because that’s what you do in a marriage. But this time, his response felt… off.
A suspicious woman | Source: Pexels
New Year’s Eve arrived, and I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my white dress. Curiosity had gnawed at me for days. Why didn’t he want me at the party? Was he embarrassed? Hiding something?
“Happy New Year, Jen!” he called as he grabbed his coat, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Happy New Year,” I replied, watching him leave.
A man putting on his coat | Source: Midjourney
As soon as the door clicked shut, I grabbed my purse and headed out.
The hotel where the party was held glowed like a jewel in the night. The lobby was decorated with silver streamers, twinkling lights, and elegant floral arrangements. Guests in sparkling white outfits mingled, laughter and conversation filling the air. I felt both nervous and determined as I approached the reception desk.
A woman in a hotel | Source: Midjourney
“Name, please?” the manager asked with a polite smile, glancing up from his clipboard.
“Jennifer. I’m Oliver’s wife,” I said confidently.
His smile faltered for a moment, and he looked down at his list, then back up at me. Then, he laughed. “Nice try!”
“I’m Jennifer,” I repeated. “Oliver’s wife.”
A woman at a reception desk | Source: Midjourney
The manager’s expression turned awkward. “Oh… uh…” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I think there’s been some confusion. Oliver already checked in… with his plus-one. His real wife.”
My chest tightened. “What?”
“Yes, he arrived about 30 minutes ago. They always arrive together, I’ve seen them many times.” He winced slightly, as if bracing for my reaction.
“I’m his wife,” I said sharply, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.
A hotel manager | Source: Pexels
He opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, his face apologetic. “Let me double-check the guest list.”
Before he could move, I caught a glimpse of Oliver in the far corner of the room. He was easy to spot in his crisp white suit. My breath caught when I saw him with her—a woman with long dark hair, her arm resting on his shoulder. They were laughing, leaning in close, their body language unmistakably intimate.
A couple at a party | Source: Pexels
The world seemed to spin. The glitzy decorations blurred as my mind raced.
“Ma’am?” the manager asked gently, breaking into my thoughts.
I turned back to him, my voice suddenly calm. “No need to check. I see him.”
He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but I was already walking away from the desk, away from the party, and away from Oliver.
A woman leaving a hotel | Source: Midjourney
Outside, the cold air stung my face, but it didn’t dull the fire burning inside me. I wrapped my coat tighter around me, my heels clicking on the sidewalk as I made my way to my car.
I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do, but I knew one thing: Oliver was going to regret this.
A sad woman walking on the street | Source: Midjourney
The next day, the phone rang just as I was pouring my morning coffee. I almost didn’t answer, still angry about last night, but something made me pick up.
“Is this Mr. Oliver’s wife?” a calm, professional voice asked.
“Yes,” I replied, my stomach twisting.
A serious woman walking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“This is Mercy Hospital. Your husband was in a car accident early this morning. He’s stable, but we need you to come in right away.”
My breath caught. “A car accident? Is he… is he okay?”
“He has a concussion and a broken arm. There are complications we’ll explain when you arrive.”
A hospital professional talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
I didn’t say another word. I grabbed my coat and rushed out the door, my anger from the night before swirling with worry.
At the hospital, the antiseptic smell hit me as I walked into the waiting area. Nurses bustled by, their faces neutral, while I stood there, my heart racing.
“Jennifer?” a doctor called, walking toward me. He was middle-aged, with a kind but serious expression.
A medical professional | Source: Pexels
“Yes. Is Oliver okay?”
“He’s stable for now, but there’s an issue we need to address,” he explained, motioning for me to sit. “His arm is fractured in several places. There’s a risk of long-term damage unless we operate soon. Unfortunately, there’s a problem with his insurance. His policy lapsed last month. As his wife, you can authorize the procedure and arrange payment.”
A woman talking to a doctor | Source: Midjourney
I blinked, trying to process his words. “His insurance… lapsed? Why didn’t he renew it?”
The doctor shook his head. “I can’t speak to that, but we do need to act quickly. Will you authorize the surgery?”
When I stepped into Oliver’s room, the sight of him startled me. His face was pale, a bandage wrapped around his head. His arm was in a sling, and he looked more fragile than I’d ever seen him.
A man in a hospital bed | Source: Freepik
“Jen,” he croaked when he saw me, his voice weak.
“Oliver,” I said stiffly, standing by the door.
His eyes searched mine, pleading. “I know you’re upset, but please… just listen. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” I said, my voice icy. “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me. And last night, I saw you with her. You brought her to that party, didn’t you?”
An angry woman in a hospital | Source: Midjourney
His face went pale. “I can explain—”
“I don’t want your explanations,” I snapped, cutting him off. “The doctor says you need surgery, but your insurance lapsed. That sounds like a problem for your real wife to handle.”
“Jen, don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I made a mistake. Please, just sign the papers.”
A sad man in a hospital bed | Source: Freepik
I stared at him for a long moment, my heart pounding. Part of me wanted to scream, to cry, to give in and help him. But then I thought of all the times I had trusted him, only to find out it was all a lie.
“No, Oliver,” I said, my voice firm. “You’ve made your choices. Now you can live with them.”
I turned and walked out of the room without looking back.
A woman leaving a hospital room | Source: Midjourney
In the hallway, my steps felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted off my chest. For the first time in years, I realized I wasn’t responsible for cleaning up his messes.
It was over. Whatever happened next was up to him.
A few days later, I received a call from the hospital. It wasn’t the doctor. It was Oliver.
“Jen, please,” he begged. His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. “She didn’t come. I’m alone here. I need you.”
A man talking on his phone in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
I said nothing, gripping the phone tightly as his words sank in. The “real wife” wasn’t so real after all. She hadn’t shown up, not for the surgery, not for anything. She’d disappeared the moment she realized he wasn’t the man he pretended to be.
“Jen?” he whispered.
“You made your choice, Oliver,” I said, my tone steady. “Now you can deal with the consequences.”
A serious woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
I hung up and blocked his number.
In the weeks that followed, I heard through mutual friends that Oliver’s career was falling apart. Word of his affair spread at work. The woman he’d paraded at the party was no longer seen with him, and his charm didn’t seem to fool anyone anymore.
But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt free.
A woman smiling with a balloon | Source: Pexels
For the first time in years, I wasn’t carrying the weight of his lies. Instead of worrying about his needs, I focused on myself.
I signed up for a pottery class—a silly dream I’d put off for years. I spent weekends hiking trails I’d always wanted to explore. I started painting again, filling my apartment with canvases splashed with color.
For years, I, Jennifer, had been the dutiful wife. But now, Jen was stepping into her own life.
A happy woman painting | Source: Pexels
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