When Nancy’s landlord demanded she and her three daughters vacate their rental home for a week, she thought life couldn’t get worse. But a surprise meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
Our house isn’t much, but it’s ours. The floors creak with every step, and the paint in the kitchen is peeling so badly that I’ve started calling it “abstract art.”
An old house | Source: Pexels
Still, it’s home. My daughters, Lily, Emma, and Sophie, make it feel that way, with their laughter and the little things they do that remind me why I push so hard.
Money was always on my mind. My job as a waitress barely covered our rent and bills. There was no cushion, no backup plan. If something went wrong, I didn’t know what we’d do.
The phone rang the next day while I was hanging out laundry to dry.
A woman hanging laundry | Source: Pexels
“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Nancy, it’s Peterson.”
His voice made my stomach tighten. “Oh, hi, Mr. Peterson. Is everything okay?”
“I need you out of the house for a week,” he said, as casually as if he were asking me to water his plants.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“What?” I froze, a pair of Sophie’s socks still in my hands.
“My brother’s coming to town, and he needs a place to stay. I told him he could use your house.”
I thought I must’ve misheard him. “Wait—this is my home. We have a lease!”
“Don’t start with that lease nonsense,” he snapped. “Remember when you were late on rent last month? I could’ve kicked you out then, but I didn’t. You owe me.”
An angry man talking on his phone | Source: Freepik
I gripped the phone tighter. “I was late by one day,” I said, my voice shaking. “My daughter was sick. I explained that to you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “You’ve got till Friday to get out. Be gone, or maybe you won’t come back at all.”
“Mr. Peterson, please,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
An expressive woman talking | Source: Pexels
“Not my problem,” he said coldly, and then the line went dead.
I sat on the couch, staring at the phone in my hand. My heart pounded in my ears, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Lily, my oldest, asked from the doorway, her eyes filled with concern.
I forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Go play with your sisters.”
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Pexels
But it wasn’t nothing. I had no savings, no family nearby, and no way to fight back. If I stood up to Peterson, he’d find an excuse to evict us for good.
By Thursday night, I’d packed what little we could carry into a few bags. The girls were full of questions, but I didn’t know how to explain what was happening.
“We’re going on an adventure,” I told them, trying to sound cheerful.
A woman packing together with her daughter | Source: Pexels
“Is it far?” Sophie asked, clutching Mr. Floppy to her chest.
“Not too far,” I said, avoiding her gaze.
The hostel was worse than I expected. The room was tiny, barely big enough for the four of us, and the walls were so thin we could hear every cough, every creak, every loud voice from the other side.
A woman in a hostel | Source: Freepik
“Mama, it’s noisy,” Emma said, pressing her hands over her ears.
“I know, sweetie,” I said softly, stroking her hair.
Lily tried to distract her sisters by playing I Spy, but it didn’t work for long. Sophie’s little face crumpled, and tears started streaming down her cheeks.
“Where’s Mr. Floppy?” she cried, her voice breaking.
A crying child | Source: Pexels
My stomach sank. In the rush to leave, I’d forgotten her bunny.
“He’s still at home,” I said, my throat tightening.
“I can’t sleep without him!” Sophie sobbed, clutching my arm.
I wrapped her in my arms and held her close, whispering that it would be okay. But I knew it wasn’t okay.
A woman hugging her crying child | Source: Freepik
That night, as Sophie cried herself to sleep, I stared at the cracked ceiling, feeling completely helpless.
By the fourth night, Sophie’s crying hadn’t stopped. Every sob felt like a knife to my heart.
“Please, Mama,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I want Mr. Floppy.”
I held her tightly, rocking her back and forth.
A crying girl | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’ll get him,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I didn’t know how, but I had to try.
I parked down the street, my heart pounding as I stared at the house. What if they didn’t let me in? What if Mr. Peterson was there? But Sophie’s tear-streaked face wouldn’t leave my mind.
A thoughtful woman in front of her house | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath and walked up to the door, Sophie’s desperate “please” echoing in my ears. My knuckles rapped against the wood, and I held my breath.
The door opened, and a man I’d never seen before stood there. He was tall, with a kind face and sharp green eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking puzzled.
A man in front of his house | Source: Midjourney
“Hi,” I stammered. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m the tenant here. My daughter left her stuffed bunny inside, and I was hoping I could grab it.”
He blinked at me. “Wait. You live here?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling a lump form in my throat. “But Mr. Peterson told us we had to leave for a week because you were staying here.”
A sad woman in the doorway | Source: Pexels
His brows furrowed. “What? My brother said the place was empty and ready for me to move in for a bit.”
I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “It’s not empty. This is my home. My kids and I are crammed into a hostel across town. My youngest can’t sleep because she doesn’t have her bunny.”
A sad young woman talking to a man | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, and for a second, I thought he was angry at me. Instead, he muttered, “That son of a…” He stopped himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I had no idea. Come in, and we’ll find the bunny.”
A serious young man opening his door | Source: Midjourney
He stepped aside, and I hesitated before walking in. The familiar smell of home hit me, and my eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. Jack—he introduced himself as Jack—helped me search Sophie’s room, which looked untouched.
“Here he is,” Jack said, pulling Mr. Floppy from under the bed.
A pink stuffed bunny under a bed | Source: Midjourney
I held the bunny close, imagining Sophie’s joy. “Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Tell me everything,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of Sophie’s bed. “What exactly did my brother say to you?”
I hesitated but told him everything: the call, the threats, the hostel. He listened quietly, his jaw tightening with every word.
A couple talking | Source: Midjourney
When I finished, he stood and pulled out his phone. “This isn’t right,” he said.
“Wait—what are you doing?”
“Fixing this,” he said, dialing.
The conversation that followed was heated, though I could only hear his side.
A serious man on his phone | Source: Pexels
“You kicked a single mom and her kids out of their home? For me?” Jack’s voice was sharp. “No, you’re not getting away with this. Fix it now, or I will.”
He hung up and turned to me. “Pack your things at the hostel. You’re coming back tonight.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard him right. “What about you?”
“I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he said firmly. “I can’t stay here after what my brother pulled. And he’ll cover your rent for the next six months.”
A smiling man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
That evening, Jack helped us move back in. Sophie lit up when she saw Mr. Floppy, her little arms clutching the bunny like a treasure.
“Thank you,” I told Jack as we unpacked. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I couldn’t let you stay there another night,” he said simply.
A young child holding her toy | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, Jack kept showing up. He fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen. One night, he brought over groceries.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I like helping.”
A man with groceries | Source: Pexels
The girls adored him. Lily asked for his advice on her science project. Emma roped him into board games. Even Sophie warmed up to him, offering Mr. Floppy a “hug” for Jack to join their tea party.
I started to see more of the man behind the kind gestures. He was funny, patient, and genuinely cared about my kids. Eventually, our dinners together blossomed into a romance.
A couple on a date night | Source: Pexels
One evening several months later, as we sat on the porch after the girls had gone to bed, Jack spoke quietly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, looking out into the yard.
“About what?”
“I don’t want you and the girls to ever feel like this again. No one should be scared of losing their home overnight.”
A young man talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
His words hung in the air.
“I want to help you find something permanent,” he continued. “Will you marry me?”
I was stunned. “Jack… I don’t know what to say. Yes!”
A marriage proposal | Source: Pexels
A month later, we moved into a beautiful little house Jack found for us. Lily had her own room. Emma painted hers pink. Sophie ran to hers, holding Mr. Floppy like a shield.
As I tucked Sophie in that night, she whispered, “Mama, I love our new home.”
“So do I, baby,” I said, kissing her forehead.
A woman tucking her daughter in | Source: Midjourney
Jack stayed for dinner that night, helping me set the table. As the girls chattered, I looked at him and knew: he wasn’t just our hero. He was family.
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.
Woman is Speaking to Her Boss on a Video Call When Her Angry Husband Bursts in – Story of the Day
When Amanda’s husband, Chris, interrupted a critical video call, she knew it was time to end things. But things only got worse when he showed up at an official meeting the next day and made a show in front of very important people.
Amanda stared at her laptop screen. She was finishing up with an important meeting with her supervisors at work. Her nerves grated along a knife’s edge, but not because of the video meeting. Her husband, Chris, was approaching the neat and cozy corner she used for working and taking on-camera calls.
“You’re amazing, Amanda,” Mr. Anders said.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
Amanda would’ve hoisted up her biggest and brightest smile, but Chris’s heavy footsteps were closer now; he was almost upon her. She froze. Like a squirrel cornered by a bear, there was nowhere for her to run and no place where she could hide.
Chris slammed his beer down on the writing pad she’d used to take notes, stepping right into her space and her laptop camera’s range. Amanda shrank away from him.
“What are you doing?” Chris asked. “Where’s my food?”
“I’m so sorry,” Amanda said to her supervisors before tilting her head to answer Chris. “I’m just finishing up my meeting, honey.”
She looked on in dismay as her supervisors, Claire and Mr. Anders, looked at each other in confusion. Amanda could still save this. Chris might go away if she could find just the right words or precisely the right way to look at him (once she gathered the courage to look at him at all.) Once he left, she could play the whole thing off as a mistake.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
“Honey, I’m hungry,” Chris said. “You don’t want to upset your hubby, do you?”
His tone of voice was soft, silky, and laden with threats Amanda knew full well he wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on. She looked up at him now—she couldn’t avoid it any longer—and bravely spoke to him as though he were a normal person, not a monster disguised as a human being.
“I just need a few more minutes, honey. Please?” Amanda pleaded. “I’m on a call with my supervisors. We should be finished soon.”
She turned back to face her laptop squarely, but Chris clearly wasn’t done.
“Supervisors?” He chuckled and reached around to grab her chair. “Come on, off you go,” Chris said, giving her chair a little shake. “You know what happens when you work too hard.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/DramatizeMe
Indeed, Amanda knew all too well what Chris would do to her for what he perceived as ‘working too hard.’ She smiled at her screen even as her mind filled with howling terror. Some part of herself that felt like it might be vital tore loose inside of her.
Amanda let Chris shoo her away from what might be the most vital meeting of her career because she ultimately had no choice. She never had a choice. A familiar darkness closed in around her as she walked to the kitchen.
“And get everything on the table in fifteen minutes,” Chris called after her.
“Of course, honey,” Amanda chirped as her auto-pilot persona took over.
“I will talk to your supervisors myself,” Chris said.
Mr. Anders, one of Amanda’s supervisors, spoke to him. “Chris, Amanda is indispensable for the meeting tomorrow. Her presence is crucial for our success, do you understand?” he stated firmly.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
Chris’s demeanor faltered slightly. “Oh, yeah, yeah, sure thing,” he dismissed.
As Amanda left to attend to Chris’s demands for food, Chris remained on the call, his disruptive behavior leaving an indelible mark of chaos that tainted the professionalism of the meeting.
***
Amanda found herself in the sanctuary of her kitchen a few hours later, the remnants of dinner scattered across the countertops. The clinking of dishes filled the air as she diligently washed and dried them, methodically moving through the routine chores.
How did it come to this? Amanda’s mind raced as she scrubbed a stubborn stain off a plate. My career hanging by a thread because of my husband.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/DramatizeMe
The clatter of plates faded into the background as Amanda’s thoughts tugged at her. I’ve worked so hard for this and sacrificed so much…
She dried a glass, the transparency reflecting the chaos she couldn’t quite see through. Where do I draw the line? Why am I still with him?
The dishes gleamed at last. Yet, Amanda’s inner conflict lingered, simmering beneath the surface, unresolved and weighing heavily on her conscience.
***
The following day, Mr. Anders attempted to maintain decorum, apologizing to the investors immediately. “Apologies for the delay. Amanda will be here shortly. Thank you for being so patient.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Youtube/DramatizeMe
Mr. Whitney, a composed figure among the investors, nodded understandingly. “We’ll wait. We’re eager to hear from Amanda,” he reassured, his gaze flickering toward the entrance.
Finally, Amanda rushed in, her chest moving rapidly. Determination glinted in her eyes, though the darkness below her eyes showed her fatigue. “Thank you for waiting. I’m so sorry,” she managed, still breathless.
Chris barged into the room before she could collect her thoughts.”What’s the fuss about? Mind if I join?” he interjected, a smirk playing on his lips as he glanced around.
He strolled over to Mr. Whitney, fixating on the watch adorning his wrist. “Fancy watch. How much did you spend on that?” Chris prodded, ignoring or unaware of the shocked and confused faces around him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
The investors exchanged bemused glances as Chris continued, his demeanor unapologetic. “Money talks, right? Let’s get to it,” he declared.
Amanda tried to rein him in. “Chris, not now, please,” she implored, sweat beading on her forehead.
Mr. Anders beckoned Claire urgently, guiding her to the corridor outside the meeting room where Chris lingered, an unsettling air of disruption trailing him. “We need to contain this,” he whispered urgently before calling out Amanda’s husband. “Chris, how about a tour of our facilities? We’ll show you around while Amanda continues the meeting.”
Chris’s expression shifted, a smug grin playing on his lips. “Sure thing, boss. Lead the way!” he mocked, his eyes darting mischievously.
Mr. Anders led Chris along the corridor. “Claire here will assist you,” he explained, turning to Claire with a forced smile.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
Claire nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Of course, Chris. Let’s start with the main office area,” she suggested, pretending this was perfectly normal. Mr. Anders returned to the meeting, and Chris’s expression shifted from sarcastic and smiley to something else.
Claire noticed the change quickly but had to pretend. The investor meeting was crucial. “Show me around, girl,” Chris demanded, his voice like a sharp knife. “Huh-huh, do what your boss said. You know what to do if you want things to run smoothly, sweetheart.”
***
Amanda battled to maintain her professional facade despite the sweat beading her entire body and the heavy weight of her eyes. She glanced at the investors, trying to forge ahead with the presentation. “Apologies for the interruption,” she began and tried to direct everyone’s attention to the projection on the wall.
But as Amanda lifted her hand to point at something, her body gave up. She staggered slightly, her vision blurring. The room spun around her, a nauseating dizziness enveloping her senses as she finally fell onto the meeting room carpet.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
“Give her some water,” Mr. Whitney commanded, concerned. The investors exchanged concerned glances, their murmurs of worry filling the air.
Mr. Anders’s composure snapped. “This is unacceptable!” he barked, his frustration palpable as he blamed Amanda, his voice resonating with visible anger. “Get up, Amanda! We need to proceed!”
“She needs help,” Mr. Whitney insisted, frowning at Mr. Anders. Mr. Morgan helped Amanda get up and seated on the table, but before they could move on, the familiar dial tone of a video call interrupted everyone.
It came from Mr. Anders’s private office computer. He hesitated but answered the call. “What’s happening there?” he asked, his anger momentarily diverted, replaced by shock.
The screen flickered to life, revealing Chris’s overbearing presence in Mr. Anders’ office, standing imposingly close to Claire, who was cowering on a couch, trying to dislodge the heavy man’s hands from her face.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
The investors’ faces twisted in outrage, and all stood, calling for security and Mr. Anders to do something. But it was Amanda who acted first despite her earlier collapse. “I need to stop this,” she declared, raising her chin.
This has gone too far, Amanda thought, her heart racing with concern for Claire’s safety. The investors followed behind her.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Mr. Anders asked, his voice far behind everyone else. “We need to get back to the meeting!”
“Chris, leave her alone!” Amanda’s sharp command cut through the tension as she entered Mr. Anders’s office. Mr. Whitney and Mr. Morgan hurried after her.
Chris stood there, hands at his side, now subdued in the face of his audience. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You’ve gone too far this time!” Amanda’s voice echoed through the office, her eyes blazed daggers at her husband.
Mr. Whitney and Mr. Morgan swiftly intervened, taking control of the situation, their focus restraining Chris until security arrived. Chris was escorted out, but his voice boomed through the corridor. “I didn’t do anything wrong! You all know they want me! Especially her!” He pointed a shaky finger at Amanda, a manic smirk contorting his features.
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
“Enough, Chris!” Amanda’s voice cut through the air, firm and unwavering. “You’ve done enough. It’s over.”
Once her husband was finally out of earshot, Amanda noticed Mr. Anders’ angry face. Smoke was almost coming out of his ears. “This is an outrage! You two have ruined everything! You—” His tirade was abruptly interrupted as Mr. Whitney and Mr. Morgan intervened.
“Mr. Anders, enough!” Mr. Whitney’s barked, one hand raised to stop him. “Your lack of leadership exacerbated this situation.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Morgan chimed in, his eyes unwavering. “Amanda and Claire did everything to salvage the meeting despite the chaos caused by your neglect. This is on you, not them.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube/DramatizeMe
Mr. Anders, seething with indignation, glared at the investors. “How dare you interfere in my business!”
Mr. Whitney shook his head, unfazed. “This isn’t how you treat your employees. We value their dedication and professionalism, something you’ve failed to recognize.”
“Furthermore,” Mr. Morgan added sternly, “they’re too good to work for you. We’re offering Amanda and Claire positions at our investment fund. They deserve better.”
Mr. Anders, his face flushed with anger, stormed out of the office. In the wake of his departure, the investors turned their attention to Amanda and Claire, commending them for their resilience and offering them opportunities in a more supportive and appreciative work environment.
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