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.
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.
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.
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.
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!”
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.”
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.
“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.
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.”
“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.”
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.
“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.
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!
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.”
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.
“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?”
“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.
“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?
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page. Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
