They say you never really know someone until you’ve lived with them. I thought I knew my mother-in-law, but everything changed when I decided to follow her. What I uncovered wasn’t just a secret; it was a ticking time bomb that threatened the peace of our home.
I used to think my life was predictable, with its comforting routine. I worked as a freelance graphic designer, which gave me the flexibility to be home most days while still bringing in a decent income.
A woman working on her laptop from home | Source: Midjourney
Xander, my husband, worked long hours at his law firm, so I often had the house to myself. It was peaceful until my mother-in-law, Cordelia, moved in three months ago.
After her husband passed away, she called us one night, her voice trembling.
“Olive, dear… I don’t know how to do this on my own,” she’d sobbed over the phone. “The house is so empty, so lonely… I just need to be around my family.”
An extremely sad senior woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
I glanced at Xander, and he nodded, looking concerned. We agreed to let Cordelia move in; it felt like the right thing to do for a grieving woman who’d just lost her partner of 40 years. But from the start, something felt off.
Cordelia had always been a little strange, but now her behavior was unpredictable. Every Thursday, she would leave early in the morning and return late in the evening, her clothes carrying a terrible stench: something rotten and damp, like decay. It lingered, clinging to the air and making me question what she was really up to.
A woman looks thoughtful and curious while sitting at home | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, where were you today?” Xander asked her one Thursday evening as she shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes avoiding ours. I stood by the stove, pretending to stir a pot of soup, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the smell.
“Oh, just out with some old friends,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, her smile tight and unconvincing.
A senior woman forces a smile while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Every Thursday?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. “That must be some social circle.”
She glanced at me, her eyes lingering a moment too long, then shrugged. “We like to meet regularly. It’s good for the soul, you know, catching up with old friends.”
But that smell — it was like she’d been crawling through a sewer. The scent lingered long after she’d passed, a pungent blend of garbage and something wet and decayed. I could feel my curiosity gnawing at me, the way you can’t help but poke at a sore tooth.
A curious woman standing in the kitchen and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
One Wednesday night, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Xander,” I whispered, nudging him awake. “Are you seriously buying that story?”
He blinked sleepily. “What story?”
“Your mom’s ‘out with old friends’ story,” I replied. “Every Thursday? And that smell… it’s not normal.”
He sighed. “Maybe she’s just grieving in her own way, Olive. People cope differently.”
I felt my jaw tighten. “And what way is that? Dumpster diving?”
He chuckled softly, half-asleep, “Let it go, love. It’s probably nothing.”
A man chuckles softly while lying in bed at night | Source: Midjourney
But it didn’t feel like “nothing.” It felt like a secret, and I needed to know.
The next Thursday, I called in sick and decided to follow her. I waited by the window, peeking through the blinds like some kind of amateur detective. Cordelia left the house at her usual time, dressed in her oversized coat, clutching her handbag tightly.
I kept a safe distance as she walked down the street, turning left at the end and then another left into an alley I didn’t even know existed. My heart pounded in my chest as I tailed her.
A woman is out on the street, looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
She stopped at the corner and looked around like she was checking for someone or something.
“Where are you going, Cordelia?” I whispered, more curious than ever.
I was expecting something harmless, maybe even laughable, like an old ladies’ knitting club or maybe a bingo night in a creepy basement. But what I found inside was nothing like that.
Cordelia didn’t meet up with friends. Instead, she made her way through the shadiest part of town, slipping into an old, run-down building that looked like it could collapse at any moment.
A senior woman standing outside an old building | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated outside, the walls covered in graffiti and the windows boarded up, but I took a deep breath and followed her inside. The air was thick with smoke, the kind that sticks to your skin, and the room was filled with the low hum of murmurs and distant laughter.
That’s when I saw it: a hidden, illegal casino tucked away in the back, reeking of stale smoke and the sour smell of desperation. The dimly lit room was filled with flashing lights and the sounds of poker chips clinking filled the air.
Stacks of poker chips on a table | Source: Pexels
And there, in the middle of it all, was my mother-in-law. Not just “hanging out with friends,” but gambling away every penny she could get her hands on, her eyes fixed on the cards in front of her, her hands trembling with each bet she placed.
I stayed in the shadows, barely breathing, watching her play hand after hand. She looked different, haggard, almost like she was wearing the weight of every decision she’d ever made. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying over the noise.
A grayscale photo of a senior woman sitting in a casino with gambling chips lying on her table | Source: Midjourney
I saw her lose money, win a little, then lose it all again. She seemed almost possessed, her fingers shaking as she reached for the chips, her face lined with a mixture of desperation and obsession.
I wanted to pull her out of there, to grab her by the arm and drag her home, but I couldn’t move. I felt frozen, glued to the spot. I needed to see how far she would go. She didn’t leave until late in the evening, and when she finally did, she looked exhausted.
A senior woman looks exhausted while sitting in a casino | Source: Midjourney
Her eyes were glazed over, and her shoulders slumped like she was carrying the weight of her losses on her back.
I waited until she turned the corner before I followed, keeping my distance. As we walked back, I felt a wave of anger and pity twisting in my stomach. What had she gotten herself into? And why hadn’t she told us?
The next morning, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. At breakfast, I set my coffee cup down a little too hard. “Cordelia, where were you yesterday?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
A woman looks serious while standing in the kitchen and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
She barely looked up from her cereal. “With friends, like I told you.”
“Stop lying, Cordelia,” I snapped. “I followed you. I know where you were.”
Her spoon clattered against the bowl, and she went pale. “You… you followed me?”
Xander looked between us, confused. “What’s going on?”
“She wasn’t with friends, Xander,” I said, my gaze fixed on her. “She was at an illegal casino, gambling. And from the looks of it, she’s been doing it for a while.”
A senior woman gambling in a casino | Source: Midjourney
Cordelia’s face crumpled, and she broke down. “I… I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’ve lost everything… everything. I had nowhere else to go. That’s why I begged you to let me stay. I was ashamed, and I didn’t know how to tell you…”
Xander’s face turned a deep shade of red. “You mean to tell me you’ve been lying to us this whole time? Using us?”
“I didn’t mean to!” she cried. “I didn’t know how to stop. I thought maybe… maybe I could win it all back.”
A grayscale photo of a senior woman looking sad and desperate | Source: Midjourney
I felt a pang of guilt, but it was overshadowed by the anger boiling inside me. “You’ve been draining us, Cordelia. We took you in because we cared, not so you could feed your addiction.”
She looked at me, her face streaked with tears. “I know, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll change. Just… don’t throw me out. Please.”
That night, Xander and I lay in bed, unable to sleep. “We have to do something,” I whispered. “We can’t just let her keep doing this.”
Xander sighed deeply. “What do you suggest, Olive? Tough love?”
A man looking at his wife while sitting in bed at night | Source: Midjourney
I nodded. “Exactly. If she’s not going to stop on her own, then we’ll have to make her stop.”
The following Thursday, I handed her a large sum of cash, more than she had seen in one place since she’d moved in with us. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I saw that familiar spark of greed.
“Go ahead,” I said, forcing a smile. “Take this and do whatever you want with it.”
A woman forcing a smile while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
She hesitated for just a second before snatching the money and stuffing it into her purse.
“Thank you, Olive,” she murmured, her voice shaking, but she didn’t meet my eyes. And then she was gone, practically running out the door.
Xander stood behind me, his arms crossed. “Are you sure about this?”
“Trust me,” I replied. “She won’t get far.”
Earlier that day, I had made a few calls, and by the time Cordelia reached the casino, the place was swarming with undercover cops. The raid went down right as she was about to hand over the cash.
Two cops standing in a casino | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t there to see it, but I could imagine the look on her face: shock, maybe a little betrayal, as they caught her red-handed, along with the owners of the illegal casino.
That evening, the phone rang. It was the police. “Mrs. Fields?” the officer said. “We have your mother-in-law in custody.”
“We know,” I replied calmly. “And we’re not bailing her out. You should know she’s been struggling with a gambling addiction. We want her to get help.”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
The officer seemed taken aback but eventually agreed to include our statement in the report. The judge showed no mercy; Cordelia was sentenced to mandatory rehabilitation and a hefty fine.
Months later, when she was released from rehab, Cordelia looked different. She seemed smaller, more fragile. She stood in our doorway, wringing her hands.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I know I hurt you both, and I’m ready to make it right. I want to rebuild my life.”
A senior woman looks sad and ashamed | Source: Midjourney
Xander and I exchanged a look. He stepped forward, his expression soft but firm.
“We’re willing to give you another chance, Mom,” he said, “but on our terms. We’ve found you a modest apartment nearby. We’ll cover the rent, but only if you keep your word and attend your support group meetings.”
Cordelia nodded eagerly, tears in her eyes. “I will. I swear. Thank you… thank you for giving me a chance.”
As we watched her walk away to her new home, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope mixed with the fear of another betrayal.
A woman looks hopeful and a bit fearful while standing outside her house and looking at something | Source: Midjourney
We’d done all we could, and the rest was up to her. The ball was in her court, and only time would tell if she could truly change.
But when Natasha starts to see a change in Marlene’s behavior, she begins to get worried about the old woman. Eventually, when the truth is revealed, Natasha doesn’t know what to do.
Two women cooking together | Source: Pexels
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.
On Thanksgiving Eve, I Took in an Abandoned Child Only to Uncover My Boyfriend’s True Intentions — Story of the Day
On Thanksgiving Eve, a single moment unraveled everything I thought I knew about love, family, and the future I’d planned. One unexpected encounter forced me to face a choice I never saw coming.
My cart was brimming with everything needed for the perfect Thanksgiving Eve: turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and even a bouquet of fresh flowers for the centerpiece. It was a ritual I loved, a chance to create something warm and special, even if Paul and I hadn’t fully agreed on what “special” meant for our future.
Passing the baby aisle, I couldn’t help but slow down. Rows of soft onesies and tiny shoes drew my gaze. I imagined the life I longed for—children laughing, little hands helping set the table. Paul hadn’t warmed to the idea yet, but I told myself he would someday.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“I need to grab some wine,” Paul said suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. “Why don’t you finish up here? I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Okay. Don’t be long.”
He leaned in, kissed my cheek lightly, and walked away toward the liquor section. Before I could reach for the whipped cream on my list, a frantic voice startled me.
“Excuse me! Please, can you hold her for just a minute?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I turned to see a woman, her face pale and her eyes darting around. Without waiting for my answer, she placed a small child in my arms.
“I’ll be right back!” she said hurriedly and disappeared into the aisles.
The little girl was so light in my arms, clutching a well-worn stuffed rabbit and staring up at me. Her light curls framed her face, giving her an angelic, fragile look.
“Uh… hi there,” I said, crouching down to her level and carefully setting her on her feet. “What’s your name?”
“Ella,” she whispered, holding her rabbit closer.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“That’s a beautiful name.
I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of her mother, but the aisle was empty. Minutes ticked by, turning into ten. Unease settled deep in my stomach.
I couldn’t wait any longer, so I walked with Ella to the security desk to seek help to locate her mother. The staff quickly made an announcement over the intercom, but no one came forward. Ella pressed herself against my side.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Mommy said I’d spend the holidays with a new mommy,” she whispered.
The words hit me like a blow. My throat tightened as I fought back the surge of emotion.
“Lisa?” Paul approached, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and frowning as he took in the scene.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between Ella and me.
I explained quickly, my words tumbling out.
“We need to take her to the police,” Paul said firmly. “They’ll know what to do.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated, looking down at Ella. Her tiny hand was still gripping mine like I was the only thing anchoring her to safety.
“Paul, I…”
“This isn’t something you can solve, Lisa,” he interrupted. “It’s not safe to keep her with us.”
I nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle in my chest as we walked to the car. Ella climbed into the backseat. She didn’t cry or fuss, she just stared quietly out the window as the streetlights flickered past.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
Paul drove in silence. I glanced at Ella. Her small figure looked so vulnerable huddled in the back seat. With every passing mile, the pull to protect her only grew stronger.
“Is that turkey in the bag?” Ella’s small voice broke the silence.
“Yes,” I said, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “It’s for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What’s Thanksgiving?” she asked, tilting her head as though trying to puzzle it out.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“It’s a holiday where we celebrate everything we’re thankful for,” I explained. “We gather with family, share a big meal, and spend time together.”
She frowned slightly. “I’ve never had a Thanksgiving. Is turkey good?”
The simplicity of her question hit me harder than I expected.
“Turkey’s delicious. And cranberry sauce, too. Have you ever tried it?”
Ella shook her head, clutching the rabbit closer. “No. Mommy says holidays are for other people.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
My heart ached for her. As the police station came into view, I felt my pulse quicken.
“Paul, pull over,” I said suddenly, pointing to a gas station on the right.
“What?” He glanced at me, his brows knitting together. “We’re almost there, Lisa. Let’s just get this done.”
“Please, Paul. I need a moment to think.”
With a huff of frustration, he turned into the gas station and parked by the pumps. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out into the crisp November air.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Paul followed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not sure we should take her to the station yet. She’s just a child, Paul. She’s never had a Thanksgiving dinner. She’s never even tasted turkey.”
“And how is that our problem?” he shot back, gesturing toward the car. “Lisa, this isn’t our responsibility.”
“Maybe not. But doesn’t she deserve one happy evening? One night where she feels safe and loved?”
“Are you serious right now? You want to bring a stranger’s kid into our home? Do you even hear yourself?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I nodded. At that moment, Paul strode to the car, opened the back door, and motioned for Ella to get out.
“Paul, wait…” I started, panic rising in my chest.
“Good luck, Lisa,” he said coldly, climbing back into the driver’s seat.
Without another glance, he pulled away, leaving Ella and me standing at the gas station.
“It’s okay,” Ella whispered, looking up at me with a brave smile.
Her words both broke and steadied me. I knew I couldn’t turn back.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
Ella and I returned to the store. As we wandered through the aisles, I let her pick out a few extra decorations—paper turkeys, bright orange streamers, and even a tiny plush turkey she hugged tightly as if it were a long-lost friend.
“Can we get these too?” she asked, pointing to a pack of colorful paper napkins with cartoon pilgrims on them.
“Of course,” I said, smiling. “Anything else?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully, then grabbed a bag of marshmallows. “These.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t go back to Paul’s place, but thankfully, I had my small apartment. It wasn’t festive or particularly grand, but it was mine. So, arriving at my apartment, we began the transformation.
Ella’s enthusiasm was contagious as she helped unpack the bags. Later, she insisted on stirring the cranberry sauce, her small hands gripping the wooden spoon tightly as she stood on a step stool.
“Is this okay?” she asked, looking up at me.
“It’s perfect,” I assured her. “You’re a natural.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The apartment began to glow from the warmth Ella brought into the space. When the turkey was finally ready, I carried it to the table, and Ella gasped as if I had presented her with a treasure.
“It’s so big,” she whispered, her eyes as round as the plates I’d set out.
“Let’s eat!” I said, pulling out a chair for her.
She hesitated, standing by her seat. “This is like a real Thanksgiving, right?”
“It is. The realest one I’ve ever had.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
We sat together, and Ella’s laughter rang out as she tried cranberry sauce for the first time, her face scrunching up before she declared it “weird but good.”
Ella sat on the floor, cradling her plush turkey and staring at the glowing candles.
“Tomorrow, it’ll be over. I know I can’t stay.”
I knelt beside her, pulling her into my arms. “Ella, I wish you could. But tonight is ours, okay? No one can take this away.”
She nodded against my shoulder. “Thank you for today. It was the best day ever.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Meanwhile, a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. I opened the door to find two representatives from Child Protective Services standing there. Behind them, Paul stood silently.
The CPS worker knelt at Ella’s level. “Hi, sweetie. We’re here to take you somewhere safe.”
Ella’s grip on my arm tightened. “Do I have to go?”
“They’ll take good care of you. I promise.”
Her small hand slipped from mine as they gently led her away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she kept looking back at me, her turkey clutched tightly to her chest.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
As the door closed behind the CPS workers, I stood frozen, the emptiness of the apartment settling over me. Ella’s laughter still echoed faintly in my ears, but the warmth of the evening had vanished. I barely registered Paul’s footsteps as he walked up behind me.
“Well,” he said casually, his tone almost cheerful. “Let’s head to my place. We can still have that Thanksgiving dinner we planned.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I turned to him slowly. “Paul… are you serious?”
My voice wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and anger. He frowned slightly as if he couldn’t quite grasp what I was upset about.
“What? I know tonight’s been… different, but we can still salvage it. I’ve got everything ready back home.”
“Paul,” I said, my words sharp, “how can you even think about that right now?”
“Is this about earlier? Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left you two like that. I… I overreacted.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
I stared at him. “You weren’t thinking clearly? Paul, a little girl needed one evening of love, of feeling like someone cared about her!”
He stepped closer, his hands raised in a gesture of appeasement.
“I get it. And I’m sorry. But Lisa, you can’t let this ruin everything. We’re good together as we are. Why complicate things with kids?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Paul, this isn’t just about Ella. I’m 36. It’s about the family I’ve dreamed of.”
“Lisa, I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not really. Not in the way I need us to be.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am.”
“I guess this is it, then,” Paul muttered, heading for the door.
I didn’t stop him. The life I had imagined with him was nothing more than an illusion.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
That night, sleep was impossible. I lay awake, my mind replaying every moment with Ella. By morning, I drove to CPS and explained my intentions. The caseworker warned me of the challenges.
“These processes take time. It won’t be easy.”
“I’ll wait,” I said without hesitation. “However long it takes.”
Weeks passed. Finally, on Christmas Eve, the call came. My approval had been finalized. Ella was coming home.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
When I opened the door to see her standing there, her small face breaking into a smile, the weight of the past months disappeared. She ran into my arms, hugging me tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Welcome home, Ella.”
That night, we decorated a Christmas tree together, stringing lights and hanging ornaments. Ella became my miracle, the heart of every holiday to come, and the family I had dreamed of for so long.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
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