Now, those days were long gone, but I still cherished the traditions. Each year, I decorated my house with cobwebs, pumpkins, and spooky lights, and waited for the neighborhood kids to come trick-or-treating. It brought a little light into my otherwise quiet life.
Just two years ago, I had walked the same streets with my daughter, holding her tiny hand as we went door to door. It feels like a distant dream now, a beautiful memory that slipped away too soon. Losing her shattered me, and it broke my marriage with John as well. We couldn’t find a way to heal, and we drifted apart under the weight of our grief.
That night, after handing out candy for hours, I realized my bowl was empty. With a sigh, I hung a “No More Treats” sign on the door. A familiar ache settled in my chest—the kind that never fully goes away.
My house stood directly across from a cemetery, a place that unnerved most people. It didn’t bother me. The rent was cheap, and I’d never been one to believe in ghosts. I made myself a cup of cocoa and sat by the window, half-expecting to see some teenagers playing pranks among the gravestones.
But what I saw instead made my heart skip a beat. Near one of the graves was what looked like a baby car seat. I blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the shape didn’t waver.
I grabbed my coat and hurried outside, the chilly October air biting at my skin. The cemetery was eerily still as I walked closer to the grave, every step filled with dread. When I finally reached it, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the car seat, was a tiny baby, fast asleep.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, kneeling down to pick her up. She was so small, completely unaware of the cold night air around her. “How did you get here?” I asked softly, knowing there would be no answer. I held her close and rushed back to the house.
Once inside, I laid her gently on the couch and noticed a note taped to her car seat. With trembling hands, I unfolded it. The note read, “Amanda, one and a half years old.”
That was all. No phone number, no explanation. Just a name. I searched the car seat for more information, but there was nothing. I looked down at Amanda, who stirred slightly, and felt my heart twist. What was I going to do with her?
Without thinking, I called the police. They listened as I explained the situation, but when they told me there were no reports of a missing child, frustration bubbled inside me. Still, they asked me to bring her in.
At the station, Amanda sat quietly in her car seat, her wide eyes gazing up at me as though she already trusted me. When the officers said she’d be placed in the care of social services, a sudden surge of protectiveness washed over me.
“Can she stay with me, at least for now?” I asked, my voice steady though my heart raced.
After hours of paperwork and background checks, they agreed. Amanda was coming home with me.
The days that followed were a blur of bottles, diapers, and sleepless nights. It had been so long since I’d taken care of a little one, but it all came back to me piece by piece. Every morning, I bought her toys, read her stories, and watched as her giggles filled the quiet spaces of my house. She became the light I didn’t know I needed.
It wasn’t always easy—some nights, her cries were impossible to soothe. But even in those difficult moments, I found joy. Amanda had filled the void in my heart, a place that had been empty for so long. The more time we spent together, the more attached I became.
One morning, as I fed Amanda breakfast, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a police officer standing with an elderly woman by his side.
“Jessica,” the officer said gently. “This is Amanda’s grandmother, Carol. She’s here to take her back.”
My heart sank. Amanda had become so much a part of me that the thought of letting her go felt unbearable. But Carol was her family. I had no right to keep her.
Carol stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Hello, sweetie,” she said, reaching for Amanda. Every instinct in me screamed to hold on, but I slowly handed her over.
The moment Amanda left my arms, she started to cry. Her little hands reached for me, and it was like a dagger to my heart. Tears stung my eyes as I watched her go, but I knew I had no choice.
Before leaving, Carol handed me a basket and thanked me for taking care of Amanda. As soon as they were gone, I collapsed on the couch, tears flowing freely. It felt like I had lost my daughter all over again.
Later that night, I stared at the basket, too heartbroken to eat. Something nagged at me, though. I picked up the thank-you note Carol had left and read it again. The handwriting looked familiar.
My heart raced as I ran to my room and grabbed the note that had been left with Amanda’s car seat. Holding the two side by side, a chill ran down my spine. The handwriting was the same. Carol had abandoned Amanda at the cemetery.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“John, hi,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Jess?” he sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I need your help.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, his voice firm.
John arrived in under twenty minutes. I told him everything—about Amanda, the cemetery, and Carol’s deception. He listened quietly, and when I finished, he asked the question I’d been dreading.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to take her back,” I said, my voice strong with conviction. “Amanda belongs with me.”
John nodded, and from that moment, we worked together. It was a long battle—endless meetings with lawyers and tense confrontations with Carol—but we didn’t give up. Weeks later, we stood in court, ready to fight for Amanda’s future.
Carol broke down on the stand, admitting that she had left Amanda at the cemetery because she could no longer care for her. The court revoked her custody, and I was granted temporary guardianship—with the possibility of adoption.
As I walked out of the courthouse, Amanda resting peacefully in my arms, I couldn’t stop smiling. She was mine, and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and loved.
John walked beside us, his expression calm but content. “You’re going to be an amazing mom to her,” he said softly.
I smiled at him, my heart full of gratitude. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
As we walked away from the courthouse, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Halloween had always been special to me, but now it meant something even greater—it brought Amanda into my life.
And perhaps, just maybe, it was bringing John back into it, too.
The Box with My Mother’s Heirloom Was Empty — My Husband Confessed, but His Lies Didn’t End There
Rachel treasures the heirloom jewelry her late mother left her, until one day she finds the box empty. With a confession from her husband, Rachel realizes that’s only half the truth. When she spots her mother’s earrings on another woman, all the puzzle pieces connect…
Now
I went to the store that morning for milk, chicken, and raspberries. An odd combination, but it was what I needed. The milk for coffee and cereal, the chicken for tonight’s dinner, and the raspberries for the raspberry and white chocolate muffins my husband loved.
A woman standing in the aisle of a grocery | Source: Midjourney
I went into the store hoping to get my groceries, but I left with a truth that I didn’t know needed to be revealed.
She was standing in the dairy aisle, our neighbor. Young, blonde, and recently divorced. She was looking at the various yogurt options, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. And if I’m being honest, she probably didn’t have any cares.
And hanging from her ears were my mother’s earrings.
A woman looking away at a grocery | Source: Midjourney
My breath caught in my throat. A sick feeling curled in my stomach. My hands clenched around the shopping basket so tightly that I was sure they were white.
No. No bloody way.
I forced my voice to stay light and breezy as I approached her.
“Mel, hi! Lovely earrings!”
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
She beamed, touching them delicately as if they were the most priceless things in the world. They were.
“Oh, thank you, Rachel! They’re a gift from someone special, you know.”
A gift. From someone special. Someone married?
The world tilted slightly. I swallowed the burning rage rising in my throat. Mel looked at me for a moment, and I wondered if the guilt was eating at her. She didn’t act like it, but something had dimmed her shine in that moment.
“Oh, they’re simply beautiful,” I said, smiling through my gritted teeth. “But didn’t it come with a pendant and a bracelet? What a stunning set that would be…”
A pair of earrings in a box | Source: Midjourney
She blinked at me, confusion all over her face.
“I definitely would if I had those pieces. But I don’t. It’s just the earrings. But maybe my special someone can gift me the whole set.”
The ground steadied beneath me.
There it was.
Derek hadn’t just pawned my mother’s jewelry. He had gifted part of it to his mistress.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
It was a selfish, well-thought-out plan.
Except he hadn’t planned on one thing.
Me.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
Then
I had been vacuuming under the bed, lost in the monotony of housework and a nagging nursery rhyme that was stuck in my head, when I spotted the box.
Something made me pause. Maybe it was instinct. Or maybe grief had sharpened my senses.
I bent down, picked it up, and opened the lid.
Empty. The box with my most prized possessions was empty.
A woman vacuuming | Source: Midjourney
The air left my lungs. The annoying nursery rhyme flew out of my head. And just like that, the shock hit me across my face.
My hands trembled as I stood up, my knees weak. I scanned my bedroom like the earrings, pendant, and bracelet might miraculously reappear before my eyes.
But they didn’t. Of course, they didn’t. Wishful thinking didn’t work like that.
There was only one person who I had shown the box and the priceless things inside. But would Derek… Was he actually capable of taking my things? Maybe he had put them away, knowing the importance that they held.
Maybe he had put them into our safe deposit box at the bank. But even if he did, why on earth wouldn’t he tell me?
An empty wooden box | Source: Midjourney
“Derek!” I stormed into the living room, where he was lounging with his laptop.
He barely glanced up.
“What, Rachel? It’s too early for this noise.”
“My mother’s jewelry. Did you take it?”
His brow furrowed like he was truly thinking.
A man using his laptop | Source: Midjourney
“No, maybe the kids took it. You know they’re into dressing up now.”
My stomach twisted again. Why would my children take something from my room? They probably didn’t even know about the box. And I was planning on passing down the jewelry to the girls anyway.
But still, kids have keen eyes. Maybe one of them saw something.
I turned and marched straight to the playroom, where my three kids were sprawled on the floor, lost in their toys.
A cozy playroom | Source: Midjourney
“Nora, Eli, Ava,” I said, almost breathless. “Did any of you take the box from under my bed?”
Three pairs of wide, innocent eyes blinked up at me.
“No, Mommy.”
But Nora hesitated. My eight-year-old, my oldest baby. The most sensitive and honest of the three, and the one most likely to give you a snuggle when you needed it.
She would tell me what she knew.
A little girl | Source: Midjourney
“I saw Daddy with it,” she said. “He said it was a secret. And that he would buy me a new dollhouse if I didn’t say anything.”
A sharp rage sliced through me.
Someone had stolen from me.
And that someone was my husband.
A dollhouse on a table | Source: Midjourney
I spent a long time with the kids, trying to figure out my thoughts and feelings while they played. Eventually, I had no choice but to confront him.
“Derek, I know you took it. Where is it?” I asked.
He let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples like I was the problem here.
“Fine, Rachel. I took them.”
I blinked slowly.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Why?” I asked simply.
His voice took on that tone of his that I absolutely hated. The slow, condescending tone that had always made my skin crawl.
“You were so sad after your mom died. I thought that a vacation would cheer you up, Rachel.” He picked up his beer can and took a long gulp. “So, I pawned them and bought us a trip.”
My fists curled. My vision blurred. I was… beyond shocked.
“You pawned my mother’s jewelry?! My dead mother’s things!”
The interior of a pawn shop | Source: Midjourney
“Rachel, we’re struggling! How can you not see it? Or do you choose to ignore it? The mortgage, the bills… I wanted to do something nice for you and the kids.”
White-hot rage filled me. I was ready to burst.
“Where. Are. They?” I spat out. “You had no right to do that without asking me, Derek! Return them. Now!”
He sighed dramatically.
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
“Okay, I’ll return the tickets. I’ll fix it if you want everyone to be as miserable as you are. Seriously, Rachel, the kids see it. It sucks.”
I turned away before I did something I’d regret.
Miserable? Of course, I was miserable. I was in pain. I was hurting. My heart felt shattered and stamped upon, and my mind was a cemetery of memories.
My mother had died. And with that, my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the person who had loved me most in this world.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
It had only been two months without her. And this man was putting a timeline to my grief?
What the hell? Who had I married?
I missed her so much. Which was why Derek’s actions had hurt me so deeply. My mother’s jewelry was like a lifeline she had left behind for me. It was something physical, something that I could hold or put on when I needed her touch…
I remembered how she didn’t want me to become a stay-at-home mom.
A tombstone with flowers | Source: Midjourney
“Darling,” she had said, buttering a slice of homemade bread. “You have so much potential. As rewarding as being a stay-at-home mom is, are you sure it’s for you?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I confessed. “But Derek said that we can’t afford a nanny, so it was either I become the nanny or I pay for one.”
“Promise me one thing, Rachel,” she said. “Keep writing your poetry, darling. Keep that side of you alive.”
A woman writing in a notebook | Source: Midjourney
My heart ached thinking about her.
But do you know what?
The next day, while shopping, I found out that the truth was even worse.
Now
I smiled at Mel in the grocery store, pretending to listen to her rave about Greek yogurt and chia seeds for breakfast.
A bowl of yoghurt and chia seeds | Source: Midjourney
“It really is the best breakfast, Rachel. It cleans out the gut and gives you more protein than eggs. Add some honey or chocolate chips, girl. Trust me,” she spoke fast, as if trying not to think or say anything that would give her away.
I smiled like I wasn’t seconds away from ripping those earrings off her ears.
She had no idea. She had absolutely no clue she had been part of my husband’s betrayal. Or did she? From the way she acted, I didn’t think she knew the value of it. In her eyes, she was standing in front of her boyfriend’s wife and using the expensive gift he had bought her.
So, I made a decision.
A woman in a grocery store | Source: Midjourney
I was going to take back what was mine.
And I was going to make Derek pay.
Big time.
The next morning, I played the part of the forgiving wife.
I was quiet, reciting Shakespearean sonnets in my head. I made pancakes for the kids. I made French toast for Derek. But I couldn’t get my encounter with Mel out of my head.
He was relieved, smug even. I’m sure he thought that I had slept on it and had finally let it go.
“It’s good to see you so chipper, Rach,” he said. “You know I love that smile.”
I wanted to slap him.
Pancakes and strawberries on a plate | Source: Midjourney
Focus on Shakespeare, Rach, I thought to myself.
“Derek, can I see the pawnshop receipt?” I asked, pretending that I just wanted to make sure everything could be bought back.
He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically but eventually handed it over.
“Nora,” I called, watching her pick at her pancakes. “Do you want to come with Mommy today? We’re going to look for Grandma’s jewelry.”
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” she said excitedly.
I wasn’t sure about taking my child to a pawnshop, but if I’m being honest, that little girl was the only thing that would keep me calm.
We got ourselves dressed and found ourselves standing outside the pawnshop.
“We’re buying the jewelry, Mom?” Nora asked.
“Indeed we are, baby girl,” I said.
The exterior of a pawn shop | Source: Midjourney
And just like that, I went in and tracked down my mother’s jewelry. It wasn’t difficult, but I had to convince the owner that it was mine.
“It would make a good anniversary present for my wife,” he said. “But you look like you’re going to cry your little heart out.”
“It’s my mom’s, sir,” I said. “Please.”
I think he was more floored by being called sir that he just gave it over, not even trying to exploit me with the price.
A man in a pawn shop | Source: Midjourney
I kept the receipt. For later.
There was only one piece left.
The earrings.
The ones that Derek’s mistress had been flaunting.
Earrings in a box | Source: Midjourney
I knocked on her door, and when she opened it, I held up my mother’s will, specifically reading out that the jewelry was mine. I also had a picture of her wearing the set at her wedding.
Then, I showed her the necklace and bracelet I had reclaimed.
“These are part of a set,” I said. “They’re family heirlooms, and I need the earrings back. They were not Derek’s to give.”
Her face paled, and her jaw dropped.
A woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Rachel… I had no idea,” she stammered. “I thought it was a gift from Derek. I didn’t know that it was yours! I had no idea that it was your… mother’s.”
She looked down, something shifting in her expression. Disappointment. Then realization.
“I should have known,” she muttered. “I thought he was being sweet and romantic… but,” she trailed off, shaking her head.
Then, without another word, she ran into her house, returned with the earrings, and placed them in my outstretched hand.
Earrings in a woman’s hand | Source: Midjourney
“Here,” she said. “These don’t belong to me. And honestly, neither does Derek. But he doesn’t belong to you either. Rachel, if it was this easy for him to get with me…”
I knew what she was saying. I understood it loud and clear.
“Hell hath no fury…” I said. “I know. I’ll deal with him.”
“Rachel, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It was just that Derek gave me the attention that I craved. This divorce… it took a part of me when it ended. I don’t know who I am without my husband. Ex-husband, I mean. Derek swept me off my feet and made me feel normal again. I’m so sorry.”
I looked at her and smiled. I knew what it felt like to have a part of me missing, but mine was due to death and grief, not cheating.
“Thank you for saying that, Mel,” I said, turning away.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
Later
I waited until he was back at work and the paperwork was finalized.
And then I took the divorce papers to his office and handed them to him in front of his boss and coworkers.
“You shouldn’t have given away my things, Derek. I mean, really. You gave my mother’s earrings to your mistress?” My voice was louder than I expected. “You stole from me. You betrayed me. And that’s your final mistake in our marriage. This cannot be fixed. I don’t want you.”
A man sitting at his desk | Source: Midjourney
Then, I turned and walked away.
He begged, of course.
But I was done.
He had taken the last piece of my mother I had left. He had lied. He had brushed off my pain. And he had betrayed our family.
And now? That man has nothing. Between alimony and child support, he had little to nothing left to his name.
A woman walking down a hallway | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
When Dorothy reads her daughter’s innocent letter to Santa, she’s blindsided by a request for the same heart-shaped earrings her husband apparently gave their nanny. Suspicion spirals into doubt, leading Dorothy to uncover a heartbreaking truth tied to a long-kept secret…
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.
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