A Week Ago, My House Was Robbed — Today, My Son (Who Doesn’t Have a Job) Bought Himself a Sports Car

A week after Karen’s life savings are stolen, she’s shocked to see her son driving a new sports car. He claims it’s from a new job, but Karen isn’t convinced. As her suspicions grow, a heated confrontation unfolds, leaving Karen desperate to uncover the truth about her son’s sudden fortune.

It had been twenty years since my husband left. Twenty years of scraped-together meals, late-night shifts, and those weeks when I’d count down to payday like it was some sort of lifeline.

A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney

A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney

I should’ve been used to the constant balancing act of being a single mother, but it still felt like I was one misstep from everything crashing down.

Jake was my life, though. No matter how hard things got, my bright-eyed, creative son was the reason I kept going. But there was a problem, a big one.

At twenty-five, Jake still hadn’t found his footing.

A young man checking his phone | Source: Midjourney

A young man checking his phone | Source: Midjourney

He had no job and no income. His art was everything to him, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills. And trust me, there were so many bills. The financial pressure got worse when someone broke in and stole all my savings from my lockbox.

“Mom, you just have to trust me. I’ll figure out who stole your money. It’s all gonna work out,” Jake had said last week after my house was broken into.

But his voice had been too calm. Maybe I was too used to things going wrong. Still, the pit in my stomach only grew as I thought about that night. All the cash I’d saved for years, gone in an instant.

An old lockbox | Source: Midjourney

An old lockbox | Source: Midjourney

Then came the day when everything changed. Jake had gone out, probably off working on some new project that wouldn’t pay a dime.

I was at the corner store when I saw the shiny, red sports car gleaming in the sun. It screamed money. Flashy, expensive, and out of place in our neighborhood. I was about to climb into my beaten-up sedan when a familiar figure caught my eye: Jake.

He walked over to the sports car and climbed into the driver’s seat. My jaw dropped.

A sports car | Source: Pexels

A sports car | Source: Pexels

My mind raced with possibilities as I headed home, each more impossible than the last. When I got inside, Jake was leaning against the kitchen counter, twirling the keys to the sports car parked in my driveway like they were nothing.

“Where did you get that car?” I demanded, barely able to keep my voice steady.

He glanced up, shrugging. “Oh, that? It’s nothing, Mom. I’ve got a new job.”

A man and woman speaking in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A man and woman speaking in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“A job?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Doing what? You’ve never held down a job in your life, Jake.”

Jake rolled his eyes, pushing past me to grab a soda from the fridge. “I’m not doing some minimum-wage labor if that’s what you’re asking. It’s legit.”

“Legit?” I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.

His jaw tightened. “I’m not stealing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

An angry young man | Source: Midjourney

An angry young man | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, really? So where did you get the money for the car then? Or do you expect me to believe you just… stumbled into it?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he snapped. “You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

My chest constricted. There was no way around it now. The horrible suspicion that had been gnawing at me since the robbery suddenly had teeth.

“You didn’t… take my money, did you?”

An angry young man | Source: Midjourney

An angry young man | Source: Midjourney

He turned on me so fast. “How could you even ask me that? I can’t believe you’d think that of me. I’ve done nothing but try to make things better, and this is what I get?”

Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I didn’t want to believe my son was a thief but I needed answers. I grabbed my keys and followed him. If he was up to something, I had to know.

A woman starting her car | Source: Midjourney

A woman starting her car | Source: Midjourney

His new car was easy to tail. I followed him across town to some high-end beauty salon. My eyes narrowed as I watched him step out and wait by the curb. And then, she appeared.

A woman, older than Jake, maybe in her mid-forties, stepped out of the salon. I watched, frozen, as she wrapped her arms around Jake and kissed him. It wasn’t just a quick peck either. This was… intimate.

My throat tightened as I sank lower in my seat. Who was this woman? And what the hell was Jake doing with her?

A concerned woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

A concerned woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

When they pulled away and got into the car together, I decided to keep following. They drove to the outskirts of town, where the houses turned into mansions. My stomach churned as Jake’s car pulled into the driveway of a sprawling estate.

My heart raced. This wasn’t just strange — it was wrong. Everything in me screamed that I had to stop this.

I didn’t wait for a second thought. I was out of the car and at the front door, pounding on it so hard I thought it might crack.

A grand front door | Source: Pexels

A grand front door | Source: Pexels

The door swung open, and there she was: the woman from the salon. Jake appeared behind her, his face immediately paling when he saw me.

“Mom?”

“Oh, you bet it’s your mom,” I spat. “What the hell is going on, Jake?”

The woman’s smile never faltered. “You must be Karen. Jake’s told me so much about you.”

“And you are?” I snapped, not bothering to hide the venom in my voice.

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

She extended her hand as though this was all perfectly normal. “Lydia. Jake’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” I nearly choked on the word. “What is going on here, Jake? How long has this been happening?”

“Three months,” Jake muttered, not meeting my eyes. “Mom, please, just calm down.”

Calm down? Was he kidding me?

A stunned and furious woman | Source: Midjourney

A stunned and furious woman | Source: Midjourney

“Calm down?” I repeated. “My house gets broken into, you show up in a sports car, and now I find out you’ve been shacked up with some rich woman for months?”

Lydia’s smile faltered a bit. “Karen, I think you’re misunderstanding—”

“No, I understand perfectly,” I said, eyes narrowing at Jake. “You’re using her. For her money, for this lifestyle. And that car — was that part of the deal too? Is this what you’ve been doing, Jake?”

Jake’s face darkened.

An upset man | Source: Midjourney

An upset man | Source: Midjourney

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” I shot back. “Because I can’t see anything else.”

Jake’s eyes flashed with anger, but behind it, I saw something else: hurt.

“I love Lydia, Mom,” he said. “Even if you find that hard to believe. I’m not going to argue with you about my relationship. We’ll speak later.”

And with that, he shut the door in my face.

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

When Jake came home later, I was sitting in the dark, waiting. I didn’t turn the light on when he walked in.

“Mom, we need to talk,” he said quietly. He wasn’t angry anymore. Instead, he just sounded tired.

I took a deep breath. “You’re right. We do.”

He sat across from me, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to find the words. I didn’t make it easier for him.

A nervous man sitting on an armchair | Source: Midjourney

A nervous man sitting on an armchair | Source: Midjourney

“Lydia isn’t just some rich woman I’m using,” he said softly. “She’s been helping me. You know how hard I’ve worked on my art, but no one ever took me seriously. Except her. She pushed me to show my work and introduced me to people in the industry who saw what I could do.”

I blinked at him, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. “Jake…”

“I know I should’ve told you about her earlier, but I was scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking a little.

An emotional man | Source: Midjourney

An emotional man | Source: Midjourney

“You’ve been through so much, and I didn’t want you to think I was doing something shady. Lydia’s helped me get my first real exhibition. I’ve already sold enough to pay off your debts, Mom. All of it.”

I stared at him, unable to speak for a moment. “You… what?

“The money and the car didn’t come from anything illegal. It was from my art. Lydia helped me organize everything, and the exhibition is in two days. I’ve worked so hard for this, and I wanted to surprise you.”

An earnest man sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

An earnest man sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” I whispered.

Jake looked at me, and for the first time in a long while, I saw my little boy who always had big dreams, even when they seemed impossible.

Two days later, I walked into a gallery filled with people admiring Jake’s work. My son, who’d spent so many years lost in his art, was finally being seen for the talent he was.

During the event, Jake stood up to give a speech.

A person holding a microphone | Source: Pexels

A person holding a microphone | Source: Pexels

“Thank you all for coming. This night means everything to me. But I have to say, none of this would’ve happened without my mom. She’s the reason I kept going, even when things got tough. So, Mom, this is all for you.”

Jake smiled at me from the stage, and then, to my absolute shock, he held up the keys to the car. “I wanted to give you something to make life a little easier. You’ve earned it. Thank you, Mom.”

A happy woman at an art exhibition | Source: Midjourney

A happy woman at an art exhibition | Source: Midjourney

The room erupted into applause, but all I could do was cry. After years of struggle, we were finally going to be okay.

Entitled Parents Demand $1000 from Nanny for Vacation Plane Tickets – The Lesson They Learned Was Harsh

Jane’s employers plan a luxurious holiday away, tagging her along to look after their children. While they promised that they would take care of all the expenses, it is only when they return home that they demand that Jane play her part and pay for her plane tickets. But Jane won’t give up that easily.“Jane, can you come into the living room?” Mrs. Smith called out, her teaspoon clinking as she stirred sugar into the cup of tea Melanie, the helper, had just given her. I was tidying up the playroom. “Now, please,” she added. Her tone was sweet, but something felt off. I walked into the living room, trying to keep my nerves at bay. “Sure, Mrs. Smith. What’s up?” I replied, wiping the disinfectant onto my jeans. She was sitting on the couch, perfectly poised as always. Not even a strand of hair out of place. Mr. Smith was seated beside her, his phone in his hand. He gave me a tight smile.“

Jane, we need to talk about the vacation.” I nodded, curious. We had been home for two days now. Back from our trip to the seaside, staying in a luxurious resort. It was almost the break I needed, minus the fact that I had the Smiths’ three children, and their friends, the Johnsons’ two sons to care for as well. I was just doing my job in a fancier location. “Of course,” I said. “It was a lovely trip. Thank you again for inviting me.” “Yes, well,” Mrs. Smith started. “We need to discuss the plane tickets. When will you be able to return the $1000?”I blinked. I was sure that I had misheard her. “Sorry, $1000? For the tickets? What?” “Yes, for the tickets, Jane,” she spoke slowly as if I was stupid. “We spent a lot on them, and we thought you’d be grateful enough to pay us back.” My heart raced. I didn’t have that kind of money to spare. I was their full-time nanny, with a mother to care for at home. “ But you told me that everything was sorted. You said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Jane. We’ve got it all covered.’” Mrs. Smith’s expression hardened. Mr. Smith gazed at me.“That was before the Johnsons refused to sign a business deal with Craig. That was the entire purpose of the holiday. Mr. Smith and I needed to woo them. So, there’s no need to seem generous now, Jane. You have exactly one week to return the money, or it will be taken from your pay.” I was stunned. The room felt like it was spinning. “But… I can’t afford that, Mrs. Smith,” I admitted. “Most of my salary goes to the rent at home and my mother’s medication. I can’t take that away from her. And you didn’t mention anything about paying you back!” “That’s not our problem, Jane. One week,” Mr. Smith reiterated, reaching for a croissant from the tea tray left for Mrs. Smith. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the end of the discussion. That night, I sat in my tiny room a few feet away from the Smiths’ house. I was seething. How could they do this? I needed a plan, and I needed it fast.Then it hit me: the Smiths cared deeply about their social standing and their reputation. “Of course, that’s all they care about,” I muttered to myself as I brushed my teeth before bed. “But I can use that to my advantage.” The next day, after I dropped the kids off at school, I created a fake email account. I drafted a polite but detailed message about my experience, making sure to be clear without naming any names. But there were enough telltale signs pointing to the Smiths, from their cars to the kids, to the gold facial appointments that Mrs. Smith bragged about. Thereafter, I sent it to the key people in their social circle, including the other influential families that the Smiths wanted to be in league with.“I just don’t understand what they want from us,” I overheard Mrs. Smith say into the phone later that day. “Eva asked me if everything is true, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.” A few days later, the gossip started spreading. The Smiths’ dirty little secret on how they treated “their staff” was out, and naturally, their reputation took a hit. Mrs. Smith called in a masseuse to soothe her muscles. “Just let them into the spa when they arrive, Jane,” she said. “I need all the help I can get.” Later that day, when I went to pick the kids up from school, the other nannies were hanging about, waiting for the bell to ring.“Did you read the email about the Smiths?” one of the nannies said. “Jane, are they really like that?” I nodded. “They’re good parents, but they’re horrible people,” I admitted, not wanting to give away that I was the person who sent out the email. “How long will you work for them?” another asked me. “I couldn’t live or work under those circumstances. Rich people need to learn that respect for them is earned, too.” I smiled. The nannies went back and forth as we waited. And through their chatter, I discovered something interesting about Mrs. Smith.Turns out that my employer had a habit of “borrowing” items from her friends and never returning them. “An entire Gucci handbag, Jane,” Mina said. “Mrs. Smith asked my ma’am if she could borrow it for a fundraising gala two months ago.” “That’s ridiculous!” I said, shocked. “I didn’t know that she was capable of that sort of thing. But she doesn’t like me getting too close to her things anyway.” A few days later, Mrs. Smith held one of her ladies’ luncheons. It was a monthly event that she loved hosting, but this time it was only two weeks into the month. “I need this to go well, Jane,” she said as I cut fruit up for the kids. “So, you need to attend it. The kids will be at school. Everything will be catered for. Just walk around and talk to the women. Make us seem human.”I knew that she was puzzling. She must have heard more than enough through the grapevine. During the event, I walked around as requested of me. But I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip. And I had nothing to lose. The Smiths were probably going to fire me at the end of the week when I couldn’t make the $1000. “We’ll deal with it, darling,” my mother coughed into the phone when I told her the truth of the matter. At the luncheon, I walked around, casually mentioning to the ladies how much I admired Mrs. Smith’s collection, making sure that I spoke to Eva, Mina’s employer. “Mrs. Smith has a stunning handbag similar to yours,” I said. “Gucci. Did she lend you this one? She’s always telling me that she lends her things out because she has so much.”Eva looked at me over the top of her champagne glass. “Is that so, Jane?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. Whispers started circulating. By the end of the luncheon, Mrs. Smith’s reputation for borrowing without returning was the hot topic. The next morning, her friends began asking for their things back. Mrs. Smith was mortified. During dinner the next night, Mr. Smith called me to the table, asking me to join them. “Thank you, but I usually wait for Ivy and Melanie to eat,” I said politely, mentioning the chef and her helper. “No, sit with us,” he insisted. I obliged. Despite his tone, I hoped that maybe he was going to tell me that the money could be forgotten. And that everything would return as normal. “It has come to my attention that an anonymous email has gone out,” he said, cutting into his steak. “A disgusting email,” Mrs. Smith added, taking a long sip of her wine. “Did you have anything to do with it?” he asked me, his eyes trying to coax a confession out of me. I shook my head, looking down at my plate. “Then that settles it,” he said, knowingly. “You’re dismissed. You can pack up and get out tomorrow.” I did exactly as I was told and moved back home. A week later, Mrs. Johnson called me. “Jane, can you come over for tea?” she asked warmly. “Of course, Mrs. Johnson,” I replied, curious about the nature of the invitation. As we sat in her luxurious living room, she looked at me with genuine concern. “I heard about what the Smiths did to you. It’s disgraceful.” I nodded, trying to keep my composure. “Well,” she continued. “We’ve decided to cut ties with the Smiths entirely. And we’d like to offer you a job. Better pay, better working conditions. We could use someone like you for our kids.” I was stunned. “Of course!” I exclaimed. I needed the job desperately. “You’ve earned it,” she smiled. “The boys loved having you watch them during the holiday. And somehow, you got Jonathan to eat his peas!” I don’t know how the Smiths reacted to me working for the Johnsons, but I hoped that they felt betrayed. What would you have done?

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