My Stepson Didn’t Know Our Door Camera Had a Mic – What I Heard Him Say about His Bio Mom Left Me in Tears

Like clockwork, every Sunday at 5 p.m., my stepson Josh came back from his mom’s place. And every single Sunday, he would step through our front door, kick off his shoes, and head straight to his room without a word.

It was like someone flipped a switch on Josh’s personality with us, transforming him from our cheerful, chatty ten-year-old son into a brooding stranger.

And what was worse? He never talked about what happened at his mom’s place. I always wanted to ask him about his mood, but I also didn’t want to push it. As much as Josh had accepted me as his stepmother, I didn’t know how much of a role I had in his life.

“Do you think he’s okay, Patrick?” I asked my husband one evening as we were making dinner.

Josh had just been dropped off, and he was in an exceptionally irritable mood, refusing to talk to the both of us.

“Honestly, I think he’s perfectly fine,” Patrick said, slicing through a handful of potatoes. “Linda does like to push him, though. I’m sure she gave him a mouthful about studying and school in general.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I said. “But I do the same thing, and he’s fine with it. He may make a joke or say something silly, but his mood is exactly the same. So this is nonsense. But again, I know bio-mom has the trump card over step-mom. So, I’m not going to say anything.”

“Olivia,” Patrick sighed. “If you want to talk to him, just go for it. Just walk up to him and ask him whatever you want. But I’ll talk to him after dinner, too.”

I nodded. That was exactly what I wanted. I just wanted Patrick to make sure that Josh was okay. Because it wasn’t always like this. When Josh first came to live with Patrick and me because we were closer to the school he wanted to go to, he was a bright light.

He kept telling stories about his day, asking questions about everything, and he tried hard to get to know me, his new stepmother. We even spent hours just baking away in the kitchen while bonding.

But recently, that boy seemed long gone. Now, we had to try really hard to get him out of the hole that he climbed into when he returned from visiting Linda. We’d cook his favorite meals, play games, and even have elaborate movie nights to try to cheer him up.

But nothing worked.

I hoped that Patrick’s conversation with him after dinner was going to make a difference.

“It was fine, Dad,” he said when Patrick asked him about the weekend. “Mom was her usual self, I guess.”

I stood in the kitchen, straining to hear their conversation outside while Patrick started a little fire for s’mores.

“But then why are you so sad? Did something happen? Your mom is great, but I know that she’s a lot to deal with,” Patrick chuckled.

“It’s draining being there, Dad,” Josh confessed. “But I know how important it is for me to keep spending weekends with Mom.”

“It is important,” Patrick agreed. “But at the same time, if it’s becoming too much, we can always change the arrangement to every second week. Okay?”

I could see Josh contemplating the idea, but then his face darkened.

“I’m going to bed,” he said. “Good night!”

Josh came storming into the kitchen through the door, and I thought he was going to run past me. But he stopped and hugged me tightly.

“Good night, Liv,” he said, walking away to his bedroom.

Now, I wanted to stop him and ask him to tell me more. But I didn’t want to try too much. I wanted to respect his privacy. I knew the complicated feelings that came with split families, but this? This was different. It wasn’t just the normal adjustment to living in two homes; something else was eating at my stepson, and in turn, it was tearing me apart not knowing what.

Then last weekend, things took a turn I never expected.

Patrick was out getting my long list of groceries, and I was sitting on the couch, waiting for Josh to come back from his mom’s place. Around 5 p.m., I heard the familiar rumble of his mom’s beat-up sedan pulling into our driveway.

A few months ago, our neighborhood had undergone a phase of petty crime, with unruly teenagers helping themselves to whatever they wanted. Since then, Patrick had installed a new security system that was as fancy as they came.

If there was too much activity on our porch, the feed would automatically show on our television, the door camera capturing everything going on. It was an easy way for us to see what was going on before we made any sudden movements in retaliation.

“It’s going to make us feel safer, Liv,” Patrick said when he installed the system. “There’s also an app that we need to download on our phones; it will do the same thing as it does on the TV.”

I had to admit, it was a pretty cool device.

As I sipped my tea, waiting for Josh to open the door and come in, the feed suddenly changed from my cooking show to the live feed of whatever was happening on the porch.

There they were, Linda and Josh, standing on the porch.

“Here’s your cookies,” Linda said, handing Josh a container. “I’ll see you next week. And you know what you have to do…”

I watched on the TV as Josh’s face dropped.

He didn’t respond to his mother right away.

“Mom, I don’t want to,” he finally replied.

My stomach twisted. I moved closer to the screen, trying to hear more.

“You have to tell them the truth, Mom!” Josh’s voice broke. “I hate lying to Dad, and they know that something is up. If Dad knew that you’re making me steal from his house every week, he’d be so mad!”

“Stealing?” I whispered to myself, barely able to comprehend what I’d just heard.

“And what about Liv? She’s going to notice that her things keep disappearing. All the sanitary towels and the lotions… Mom, I can’t keep doing it.”

I knew I wasn’t going insane! Recently I had noticed that my things were getting ‘finished’ too quickly or going ‘missing’ often. Now, the truth was coming out.

What else had Josh taken for his mother?

“So what, Josh?” Linda hissed. “They have more than enough money. I told you, I need some of Olivia’s jewelry next time. If I can pawn one of her fancy necklaces or rings, I’ll have enough to cover my debt.”

“What the heck?” I asked myself out loud.

“And try and get some money, honey,” Linda continued. “Your father usually keeps a wad of dollars in his sock drawer. He keeps them for an emergency, and helping your mother out is an emergency.”

I couldn’t believe that Linda was just standing on my porch manipulating her own son into stealing from his family. I could tell from her voice that she wasn’t giving Josh a choice. She wanted what she wanted.

A rush of emotions hit me all at once, but most of all, I felt this crushing weight for Josh.

My sweet boy who had been carrying this burden all by himself. It wasn’t a wonder that he had been so out of it lately. Without thinking, I got up and marched to the front door.

“Linda, hello,” I said coldly.

“Hi, Liv,” Josh said, reaching out to hug me.

Linda gave me a curt look without saying anything.

“I heard all of that,” I said.

Josh’s grip on me tightened, and I could feel his breathing get heavy.

“What’s going on, Linda?” I asked. “Tell me, or I’ll call Patrick right now. Josh, go to your room.”

At the threat of Patrick finding out the truth, Linda spilled her story quickly. She went on about being in debt and falling behind on rent. And that she was struggling to make ends meet, let alone look after herself and Josh. She was desperate and frustrated.

“I’ll give you the money to get you back on your feet,” I said. “But Josh will remain here until you do. And you will not ask that boy for anything else. Do you understand?”

“He’s my son, Olivia,” she said coldly.

“Yes, your son that you’re teaching to steal from his family. I’ll press charges if you don’t drop this. Take the money and get back to being able to care for Josh. Understand?”

Linda nodded slowly, realizing that the implications would be much worse than her pride.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“I’ll transfer the funds to you tonight,” I said. “Send me a breakdown of what you need.”

She nodded and walked away.

As I opened the front door, ready to get my phone and figure out how I was going to keep this from Patrick, Josh enveloped me.

“Thank you,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t want to steal! I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, sweet boy,” I said. “It’s all going to be okay. I’m going to help Linda, and we’re going to fix this. I promise.”

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

I Noticed That Money Was Disappearing from Our Family Stash — I Was Shocked When I Found Out Who Was Taking It

Judy and her family get into the habit of saving money in a “family stash jar,” which is used for emergencies or family outings. But soon, she starts noticing that someone in the family has sticky fingers, helping themselves to the money. Judy has to figure out who it is and what is the reason for such dishonesty.

I’m sure that it’s the same for most families. But in our family, honesty is the foundation of everything. I’ve always trusted my husband, Ethan, my 24-year-old son, Josh, and my 17-year-old daughter, Emma, implicitly.

So, when money started disappearing from our family stash, it felt like a punch to the gut. We’d always kept a communal jar of cash for emergencies or spontaneous outings, but lately, large sums had been vanishing without explanation.

“I must be losing my mind,” I said out loud to myself when I noticed that the jar looked a little different from when I had last put in some money.

At first, I thought that it was a simple miscalculation. But as the missing amounts grew from a $50 here, $100 there, and eventually $300 in one go, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Who has sticky hands?” I asked the empty kitchen.

It gnawed at me, the uncertainty and suspicion creeping into my thoughts. I hated feeling this way about my family.

“Are you sure that it’s someone from the house?” my best friend, Misha, asked me when we met for cheesecake and wine.

Read the full story here.

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.