I never imagined my day would start like this. I’m Sandra, 57, a widow, living a quiet life in a sleepy neighborhood. My son, Derek, 28, and his wife, Lindsay, moved in with me last year. It was supposed to be temporary—just until they found their own place.
But here we are, still under the same roof. Derek is a good man, always has been. He works hard, provides for his family, and does his best to keep the peace. Lindsay, on the other hand… well, she’s a storm in a teacup. We’ve never truly gotten along. There’s always tension, always that icy undercurrent whenever we’re in the same room.
Derek had left for a business trip two days ago, leaving me alone with Lindsay. I could tell she wasn’t thrilled about it either. Mornings with her were always a test of patience, so I tried to keep to my routine and let her do her own thing, staying out of her way as much as possible.
This morning, my peaceful routine shattered. A loud, metallic thud outside jolted me from sleep. My heart leaped into my throat. I threw on my robe and ran to the front door.
In the driveway, my poor car sat in ruin—its bumper crumpled, headlights shattered, and a wing mirror lying in pieces on the ground. I froze for a moment, staring at the destruction.
“What in the world?” I gasped, bending to touch the crumpled metal. How had this happened? It was fine last night. Who could’ve…?
Then I heard the front door creak. I turned to see Lindsay strolling out, sipping her coffee as if nothing were wrong.
“Oh, good morning,” she said casually.
“Morning? Look at my car, Lindsay! It’s wrecked!” I shouted, my hands trembling.
She glanced at it, then back at me, unbothered. “Yeah, I noticed that.”
“You noticed? What do you mean you noticed? Do you know what happened?”
She shrugged, taking another lazy sip of her coffee. “I took it out last night. The brakes were acting up, probably why it got banged up.”
“You took my car? Without asking me?” I felt my blood boil.
“Well, you weren’t using it, and I had somewhere to be,” she replied, as if that explained everything.
“Somewhere to be? At that hour? Where on earth could you need to go in the middle of the night?”
“That’s none of your business,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. “And don’t lecture me about money. I’m not paying for anything just because your old car’s falling apart.”
I tried to control myself, but anger surged. “Lindsay, you can’t just take someone’s car without permission!”
She rolled her eyes, clearly uninterested in hearing me. “Oh, please. Stop acting like it’s a big deal. It’s just a car. Your problem.”
“My problem? You damaged it! You should fix it!”
“Not happening,” she said, folding her arms. “I’m not spending my money on that piece of junk.”
I wanted to scream. To yell. To shake some sense into her. But I remembered what Derek had told me before he left: “Don’t argue with her, Mom. It’s not worth it. I’ll handle things when I get back.”
I took a deep breath. “Lindsay, you need to understand that what you did was wrong. You can’t just—”
My phone rang. Relief surged—I saw Derek’s name. Maybe he could straighten this out.
“Hello, Derek?” I said, trying to sound calm.
“Mom, what’s going on? Lindsay just texted me, saying you’re giving her a hard time.”
“Derek, she took my car without asking and crashed it. And now she refuses to pay for repairs!” I blurted, my voice shaking.
“Mom, calm down,” he said, voice tired. “I’ll take care of it when I get back, okay? Just… don’t fight with her. Please.”
“But Derek, she—”
“I know, Mom. I know. Just let it go for now. I’ll deal with it.”
I sighed, defeated. “Alright, Derek. But something needs to be done.”
“I promise, Mom. Hang in there.”
After the call, my mind raced. She was hiding something, I was sure of it. It wasn’t just a car accident—there was more, and it was bigger than I wanted to admit.
That evening, Lindsay left the house, saying she was going to “meet a friend.” My gut told me otherwise. I grabbed my phone and called Derek again.
“Derek, something’s wrong,” I whispered urgently. “Lindsay’s acting strange. I overheard her on the phone earlier—it didn’t sound right.”
“Suspicious how?” Derek asked, worry in his voice.
“I don’t know exactly… but she’s hiding something. And now she’s gone out saying she’s meeting a friend. Derek, I don’t trust her.”
Derek sighed. “I’ve been getting weird vibes too, Mom. I didn’t want to think the worst. Do you think she’s—”
“I don’t know, Derek. But something’s off. We need to find out what.”
“Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions yet,” he said, trying to stay calm. “Keep an eye on things. I’ll be back tomorrow night. We’ll talk more then.”
I spent the evening pacing, anxious, waiting for Lindsay. When she returned late, she froze at the sight of me in the living room.
“You’re still up?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, watching her like a hawk. “How was your evening?”
“Fine,” she said quickly, avoiding my gaze. “Just caught up with a friend.”
“Which friend?” I pressed.
“Just… a friend from work,” she mumbled, eyes darting away.
I didn’t push further, but I knew she was lying. The tension was thick, suffocating even.
The next day, Derek called again, urgency in his voice. “Mom, I just got a call from a buddy at work. Something strange happened last night. A girl from a dating site was supposed to meet him, but she canceled, saying she had an accident.”
My stomach dropped. “Derek, what are you saying?”
“The girl he described… sounded like Lindsay. He didn’t know it was her, but I’m almost sure she’s been sneaking behind my back.”
Cold fear shot through me. The late-night outings, secret calls, the car accident—it all made sense now. It wasn’t just an accident; it was part of a bigger, hidden betrayal.
“What do we do?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Mom, pack her things and put them outside. When I get home tonight, she’s out. I’m done with the lies.”
I knew it was right, but my heart ached for Derek. He didn’t deserve this. I began packing Lindsay’s belongings, each item a reminder of how quickly life had spiraled out of control.
The door creaked. Lindsay stepped in, eyes wide with shock at the scene.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Kicking you out,” I said firmly, crossing my arms. “Your lies are over.”
“You’ll pay for this!” she hissed. “I’ll call Derek right now!”
The call ended, and she left. Relief and sadness washed over me. Derek returned that night. After a short, painful conversation, he decided to file for divorce. It wasn’t easy, but the betrayal ran too deep. There was no going back.
That night, I sat in my quiet living room, exhausted, but with a sense of relief. The storm had passed. Derek was safe, and the truth had finally come to light. And though our family would take time to heal, at least the deception was over.