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 Caught My Husband with His Mistress in a Hotel — This Is a Romantic Trip They Will Never Forget
Year after year, he promised that we would go, but life always seemed to get in the way—work obligations, family matters, and an endless parade of excuses.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” he would say. “It’s just that something came up at the office, and I have to attend to it.”
But then, when Tom forgot our 10th wedding anniversary, something inside me snapped.
“I have to leave town for the week,” he said while shaving. “It’s for work. We’re prospecting new clients.”
I had hoped that Tom would have told me to pack my bags and get ready to celebrate our romantic milestone—yet, it slipped his mind entirely.
Enough was enough.
I wasn’t about to be a footnote in my own love story.
So, I called my best friend, Jenny.
“We’re going away for my wedding anniversary!” I said as she answered the call.
“What?” she asked, surprised by my words, I could hear her slurping on her usual smoothie.
“Tom would hate that!”
I explained to her that Tom had to be on a business trip and that I was tired of being alone.
“Pack your bags, Jen,” I told her.
I went straight to my closet and began to pack my bags. I needed this. I needed a moment to myself. I got onto my laptop and booked a hotel. This weekend was going to be a weekend to heal, laugh, and forget the sting of neglect.
The hotel Tom had often raved about was our first stop.
As we stepped into the lobby—a place he described right down to the gilded frames on the walls—my heart raced with anticipation and a twinge of sadness.
I was happy to be here with my best friend, sure. But being with Tom would have made it so much better, with memories that would have lasted a lifetime.
“Let’s check-in and leave our bags,” Jenny said. “And then get some fish and chips from that place you’ve been talking about for the past hour.”
And then I heard it.
Tom’s laugh.
I looked up, across the room, and there he was. My husband, standing across the lobby with his arm wrapped around a woman who was decidedly not me.
The scene was like a punch to the gut. There he was, living our dream with someone else.
My first instinct was to storm across the lobby and confront them. But anger gave way to a colder, sharper strategy.
Ten years of marriage for this? This was Tom’s important business trip?
Sure.
I pulled out my phone and started filming them discreetly, capturing their intimate laughs, their shared glances—all the things that should have been mine.
“Are you okay, Eliza?” Jenny asked me, oblivious to the scene I had just witnessed.
“Look,” I said, pointing at Tom.
Jenny clasped her hands to her mouth and gasped.
Feeling emboldened, I approached the reception desk.
“I’m Mrs. Cooper,” I said. “You’ll see my husband checked in as Tom Cooper? It’s our anniversary weekend, and I wanted to surprise my husband.”
The woman behind the counter bought it. She beamed at me and told me there would be complimentary couple massages if I could prove we were married.
And then, she gave me the key to his room.
I went in and filmed everything—their clothes strewn about, the champagne on ice, the unmistakable aura of a romantic getaway.
With Jenny’s encouragement, I took to the streets of Bellport. We showed the footage to anyone willing to watch it.
“What do you think of a man who promises a romantic weekend to his wife and then takes his mistress instead?” I asked the locals.
Jenny filmed all their reactions while I spoke. People were shocked, and hurt on my behalf; some were even empathetic.
And as I met more people, it turned out that people didn’t just disapprove of Tom—they shared their stories of betrayal, connecting with my own pain.
Jenny and I went back to our room and ordered room service while she whizzed away on her laptop, turning our footage into a short film.
Forgotten Promises: A Bellport Betrayal.
Then, we uploaded it online—tagging Tom on Facebook.
It went viral overnight. And as the support began to pour in, so did the outrage towards Tom.
When Tom saw the video, he called me, furious.
“Eliza!” he barked. “Take it down! This isn’t fair!”
“It’s too late, Tom,” I replied coolly. “It’s out there now, and it’s the truth.”
Tom went on, airing his grievances through the phone.
“Why doesn’t he just come and find you?” Jenny asked. “We’re in the same hotel.”
I didn’t understand that either. But Tom seemed perfectly fine spending time with his mistress. I knew she was there with him—probably comforting him while he was distressed by my actions.
“I don’t know,” I replied to Jenny.
I cut the call, and Jenny and I took to the streets, ready to eat our feelings away in ice cream.
As we were walking, out of the blue, a travel company reached out to me. They had seen our short film and offered me a job in creating “Truthful Travelogues.”
“You’ll just have to do exactly what you did for your short film,” a woman named Natasha told me. “We’ll send you a laptop so that you can edit on there, too.”
Suddenly, I was more than just another scorned wife who had to suffer in silence and wait to be acknowledged by her husband. Now, I was a storyteller, weaving narratives of authenticity in beautiful locales.
And on the other hand—Tom’s life began to crumble. His professional image soured as colleagues and clients questioned his integrity.
That trip he took to Bellport, meant to be hidden away like a secret, became his public undoing.
His car was even egged by some of the kids who lived on our street—something that he deserved.
Shortly after I returned home, I packed all my belongings and moved in with Jenny. She was single and my constant support—there was nobody else I wanted to reinvent myself with.
Looking back, the trip to Bellport was nothing like I had imagined it would be. Initially, I had wanted it to be a romantic escape with my husband, but then it had turned into a girls’ weekend.
Only for it to become an unraveling of my marriage.
Even now, I’m not completely sure that my actions were the greatest, but at the same time—I needed to do it. I needed to expose Tom for the liar that he was.
And in the end, I needed to empower myself again. I couldn’t keep living in the shadow of Tom’s job and deceit.
Now, I have to try and rebuild my life as a newly single woman ready to get what she deserves.
What would you have done?
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