I Found a Lace Robe Hidden in My Husband’s Closet – Then I Saw My Stepmother Wearing It

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, half-hidden by 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. Like seductive and… 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 the “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 stay 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? Your father would never leave me with nothing…”

“He didn’t leave you with nothing, Lorraine,” I said. “He left you with a lot of money. But this is my childhood home. Of course, he’d want me to have it.”

Lorraine started to protest, but Jason cut her off.

“And before you think about pulling another stunt, know this: we’re not going anywhere. But you might want to start packing.”

“Or you can see if your boyfriend will take you in?” I said nonchalantly.

Lorraine stammered, her sharp tongue suddenly useless.

“What? There’s no boyfriend?” I asked.

“I planned that! I staged the entire thing! There is no boyfriend, Calla. There is no cheating, which is what I wanted you to think. I wanted you to see the robe and know that… or think that something was going on.”

“I know,” I said. “I overheard you. But look, you have a week. I’ll give you that because it’s what my father would expect from me.”

“I’ll be better. I’ll do everything—the cooking, the cleaning, homework with Emma, you name it!”

“I don’t want my child around you,” I said simply. “I’m sorry, but that’s just how I feel.”

Within a week, Lorraine was gone. And I finally had peace in the home my dad had loved so much. I turned Lorraine’s bedroom into a reading room for myself, and half of it a playroom for Emma.

And that robe?

Lorraine had conveniently left it behind. I donated it to charity with the rest of the things she’d abandoned. Let someone else enjoy it, because I sure as hell wasn’t keeping it.

What would you have done?

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

I Suspected My Husband Was Cheating on Me and Followed Him One Day

When Lily and Jason’s son, Nathan, brings his fiancée home for the long weekend, Lily is excited to get to know the young woman. But during that weekend, she notices her husband acting strange. So, she tries to uncover what is going on with Jason — only to open a can of worms with secrets wriggling everywhere.

From the moment Nathan introduced us to his fiancée, I knew something was off.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t sweet or lovely, because she was. Her name was Tessa, and she’d come to Chicago with Nathan from his college in Michigan to spend a long weekend with us and meet the family.

My son and his new beau had been dating for over a year, and she’d just been a name until now. Now that she was here, I could see why my son was head-over-heels. Tessa was sharp, funny, and kind in a genuine way.

Within minutes, my eight-year-old daughter, Sophie, was practically glued to her side.

But my husband, Jason, was different that night. Usually, he’s animated and easygoing, especially around Nathan and his friends. But when Tessa was around, he was quiet, almost as if he were retreating into himself.

It was strange. Very strange.

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.