Food keeps disappearing from Christine’s home—first chocolates, then entire meals. When her husband, Samuel, swore he wasn’t the culprit, she installed a hidden camera. When she spots the intruder in the footage, her blood boils.
At first, it was just small things disappearing from my fridge and kitchen cupboards. A handful of chocolates missing from the box I’d kept. The juice boxes Samuel loved, running out faster than usual.
Juice boxes on a table | Source: Pexels
Every time something disappeared, I took a mental inventory, trying to remember if I’d eaten it myself in a late-night fog.
But I knew my habits.
I could make a box of chocolates last for weeks, savoring one piece at a time. I wasn’t one to devour half a box and forget about it.
A box of chocolates | Source: Pexels
Yet, I tried to rationalize the situation.
Maybe Samuel was sneaking midnight snacks. Maybe I was working too hard and losing track.
But the incidents began to multiply.
A woman in a kitchen looking worried and confused | Source: Midjourney
A bottle of wine we’d been saving for our anniversary—the one I specifically remembered shoving to the back of the cupboard—suddenly appeared in the recycling bin.
The fancy cheese I had bought for our dinner was half gone before the guests even arrived.
Each disappearance felt like a small paper cut to my sanity.
So I started keeping a journal.
A woman writing in a notebook | Source: Pexels
Monday: Half a box of imported biscuits disappeared.
Wednesday: Three pieces of dark chocolate were missing.
Friday: The raspberry preserves I had ordered online were nowhere to be found.
This pattern was infuriating, not only because things were disappearing, but also because of what was being taken.
A thoughtful woman sitting at a kitchen table with a notebook | Source: Midjourney
These weren’t random snacks or ordinary foods—they were all premium items, special treats, things I’d carefully chosen and looked forward to enjoying.
Then the caviar disappeared. Not the cheap stuff either, the premium Osetra I’d bought for Samuel’s birthday. $200 worth of tiny black pearls, vanished without a trace.
It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
A box of caviar | Source: Pexels
Although it wasn’t my usual habit, the only logical explanation was that my husband had been sneaking snacks. I had to confront him if I wanted to solve this mystery.
“Hey, babe,” I said one morning, trying to keep my voice casual. “Have you finished the box of Belgian truffles I bought last week?”
Samuel looked up from his coffee, his brow furrowed. “What truffles?”
A man sitting in a kitchen, looking confused | Source: Midjourney
My stomach did a funny little somersault. “The ones on the top shelf of the pantry. Behind the cereal.”
“I haven’t touched it,” he said, taking another sip. “I didn’t even know we had it.”
I stared at him, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. Samuel was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. If he said he hadn’t eaten the chocolates, then he hadn’t.
Which meant either I was losing my mind, or someone else was helping themselves to our plate!
Shocked woman in kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Are you sure?” I insisted, my voice hardening. “The caviar from your birthday is gone too. What about the wine we were saving for our anniversary? The one from our trip to Napa?”
This caught his attention. Samuel’s coffee cup froze halfway to his mouth. “The what? That thing was expensive! And I couldn’t wait to open it next month.”
“I know.” I crossed my arms and leaned on the counter. “And unless you have a very sophisticated mouse with expensive tastes, someone has entered our kitchen!”
Close-up of a woman with a serious expression | Source: Midjourney
I was struck by the implications of this situation.
Someone had entered our house. Repeatedly. While we were sleeping? While we were at work? The thought sent shivers down my spine.
“Maybe we should install some cameras?” Samuel had suggested, his voice now uncertain. “Just to be sure?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes. Maybe we should.”
A couple having a serious conversation at the kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
The camera was easy enough to hide: a small wireless camera hidden behind some cookbooks on the kitchen shelf.
I positioned it carefully, making sure it had a clear view of both the pantry and the refrigerator. Then I waited, jumping every time my phone popped up a notification.
Two days later, I was at work when my phone went off with a motion alert.
I took refuge in an empty conference room and watched the live video.
An empty conference room | Source: Pexels
I’m not sure what I was expecting: a maintenance man, a hungry homeless man with expensive tastes, or… I don’t know, a very ambitious raccoon?
Instead, I watched with growing disbelief as my mother-in-law, Pamela, waltzed into our kitchen as if she owned the place.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, my eyes glued to the screen.
A woman looking at something in amazement | Source: Midjourney
She moved with the confidence of someone completely at ease, pulled out a wine glass, and poured herself some of the expensive Bordeaux we’d been saving. She even knew where we kept the good cheese.
The way she moved around our kitchen, opening drawers without hesitation and grabbing things without searching, showed me that this wasn’t her first solo visit to ransack our kitchen. Far from it.
But it was what happened next that made my blood run cold.
A worried woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
Pamela didn’t leave after finishing her impromptu wine and cheese party. Instead, she strolled down the hall and headed toward our bedroom.
The kitchen camera couldn’t show me what she was doing there, but luckily I had placed extra cameras throughout the house, just in case.
I flipped to the bedroom feed and nearly dropped my phone in shock.
A bedroom | Source: Pexels
Pamela was putting on my favorite dress. Then she turned to admire herself in the mirror. She wasn’t just stealing our fancy snacks, she was trying on my clothes too!
But the worst was yet to come.
My jaw dropped when I saw her go straight to my underwear drawer and start rifling through my lingerie.
A woman staring at her phone screen in horror | Source: Midjourney
She slipped off my favorite dress and tried on the satin and lace nightie I bought last week.
WHAT THE HELL! Pamela hadn’t just crossed the line, she’d completely broken it.
But why? Pamela and I had always had a difficult relationship, but this was downright disturbing. And how did she get into our house?
A worried woman looking at her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
The next day, I didn’t go to work. I hid in the hallway, determined to catch my thieving mother-in-law in the act.
As planned, at 2 p.m., she came in.
I waited while she went through her now-familiar routine: wine, cheese, a little caviar for good measure.
Then she walked towards the bedroom.
A woman walking down a corridor | Source: Midjourney
As soon as she started rummaging through my closet, I walked into the room to confront her.
“Are you having fun?” I asked him.
Pamela screamed, spinning around so fast she nearly fell over. “Christine! I… I was just…”
“Just what?” I kept my voice eerily calm, even though rage was boiling inside me. “Just break into our house? Eat our food? Just try on my underwear?”
A woman speaking angrily to someone | Source: Midjourney
She blushed, but instead of shame, I saw indignation in her eyes.
“I was checking that your wardrobe still fits! As Samuel’s mother, I have a responsibility…”
“What? Making sure your son’s wife dresses according to your standards?” I crossed my arms. “Where did you get a key?”
An angry woman confronting someone | Source: Midjourney
“Samuel gave it to me!” she retorted. “He told me I could come by anytime!”
I almost laughed. “Really? That’s interesting, considering he was just as confused as I was about the missing food.”
Something flickered across his face… fear, perhaps? But it was quickly replaced by that familiar self-righteous expression I’d grown to hate over the years.
A middle-aged woman with a smug, confident smile | Source: Midjourney
“Come out, Pamela.” I took her by the elbow and led her to the door. “And give me the key!”
She stepped away from me and looked at me as if I were a piece of dirt she’d just scraped off her shoe. “This is my son’s house too, Christine. And I’ll come by whenever I want!”
She left, slamming the door, her nose in the air. But it was clear this was far from over.
A pensive woman looking out the window | Source: Midjourney
That evening, I showed the footage to Samuel. His face went from confused to horrified and furious in the space of 30 seconds.
“I never gave her a key,” he said when I asked him about it, his voice thick with anger. “How the hell did she get one?”
We got our answer the next morning when Pamela showed up, acting like nothing had happened.
Samuel blocked the door. “Mom, where did you find the key?”
An angry man standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
She blinked innocently. “Oh, that? I just made a copy! For emergencies, you know.”
“In case of emergency,” I repeated flatly. “Like emergency wine drinking? Emergency dressing sessions with my clothes on?”
Pamela looked at Samuel sadly. “Well, maybe if you had spoiled your mom with more delicious food and bought me the nice clothes you buy for your wife, I wouldn’t have been so curious.”
A middle-aged woman calling on someone | Source: Midjourney
I’d had enough. It was time to end it.
“This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to give us back all the copies of this key you made.”
She scoffed. “What if I don’t?”
Samuel pulled a brand-new set of locks out onto the table. “Then you’ll be wasting your time trying to break into a house you can’t get into again.”
A serious man addressing someone | Source: Midjourney
Pamela stood there, her face twisting with barely contained rage. Then she pulled a key from her purse and slammed it on the counter. “Fine! But don’t expect me to help you when you need me!”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, we never did.”
She left, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows. She spent the next few weeks sulking, refusing to apologize or even acknowledge what she had done wrong.
A couple sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
Samuel paid the price, as she bombarded him with texts and calls telling him I was being unreasonable and that he would regret it if we had an emergency.
But he didn’t let her be manipulated into coming back into our lives.
I changed the locks that same day. Now, every time I open my well-stocked refrigerator or slip into a dress I haven’t worn in a long time, I smile, knowing that my home is finally truly mine again.
A woman twirls in a new dress | Source: Midjourney
And if Pamela wants to know what I’m wearing or eating these days? Well, she’ll just have to use her imagination.
Here’s another story : A few days before my wedding, I went downstairs to get a bottle of wine. But on the stairs, I heard my mother whisper to my fiancé, “You shouldn’t marry her.” Frozen on the bottom step, I listened as my mother revealed a secret I’d buried for years.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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