My mother-in-law was stealing my food—but what I caught her doing next was even worse.
At first, it was minor—a missing chocolate, an empty juice box. Then entire meals started vanishing. Anniversary wine. Imported delicacies.
I assumed I was forgetful. Maybe my husband, Samuel, was snacking at night. But when the $200 caviar I had bought for his birthday disappeared, I knew something was wrong.
So, I set up a hidden camera.
I expected to catch a petty thief.
Instead, what I saw left me shaken.
The Clues Start Adding Up
It wasn’t just any food that went missing. It was always the most expensive items—truffles, gourmet cheese, fine wine.
Not the instant noodles or granola bars.
One morning, I casually asked Samuel, “Did you finish the Belgian truffles?”
He looked up, confused. “What truffles?”
That was all the confirmation I needed. He wasn’t the culprit.
Someone else was sneaking into our home.
Catching the Thief
Samuel suggested we install cameras. I agreed. We hid one behind the cookbooks, aimed at the kitchen.
Two days later, I got an alert while at work.
Motion detected: Kitchen.
I pulled up the live feed—and my stomach dropped.
Pamela.
My mother-in-law.
She strolled in like she owned the place, raiding our pantry, pouring our anniversary wine, helping herself to our gourmet food.
She knew exactly where everything was.
This wasn’t her first time.
But what she did next made my skin crawl.
Beyond Theft—A Disturbing Discovery
After indulging in our food, she didn’t leave.
She walked into our bedroom.
Switching camera feeds, I watched in horror as she slipped into my favorite dress.
Then she went to my lingerie drawer.
She rummaged through my things.
And then—she tried on the satin and lace teddy I had just bought.
I nearly dropped my phone.
I needed to confront her.
The Confrontation
The next day, I stayed home and waited.
At 2 p.m., Pamela let herself in.
She poured herself a glass of wine, sampled some caviar, then headed for my bedroom.
I stepped into the room.
“Enjoying yourself?”
She spun around, startled.
“Christine! I—I was just—”
“Just breaking into our house? Eating our food? Trying on my lingerie?”
Instead of shame, she looked indignant.
“I was making sure your wardrobe suited you!” she huffed. “As Samuel’s mother, I have a responsibility—”
“To do what?” I snapped. “How did you even get a key?”
She lifted her chin.
“Samuel gave it to me!”
I almost laughed. “Funny, he’s been just as confused about the missing food.”
For the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes.
The Final Straw
That night, I showed Samuel the footage.
His expression shifted from confusion to fury.
“I never gave her a key,” he said. “How the hell did she get one?”
The answer came the next morning when Pamela showed up like nothing had happened.
Samuel blocked the doorway.
“Mom. Where did you get the key?”
Pamela blinked innocently.
“Oh, that? I made a copy! For emergencies.”
I folded my arms. “Like emergency wine drinking? Emergency dress-up sessions in my lingerie?”
She sighed dramatically.
“Well, maybe if you spoiled your Mommy with fine food and bought me the beautiful clothes you buy for your wife, I wouldn’t have been so curious.”
Samuel turned red with anger.
I had heard enough.
“You’re going to give back every copy of that key,” I said.
She scoffed. “And if I don’t?”
Samuel dropped a new lock set on the table.
“Then you’ll be wasting your time trying to break into a house you can’t get into.”
Pamela’s face twisted in rage.
She yanked the key from her purse and slammed it onto the counter.
“Fine! But don’t expect me to help you when you need me!”
I smirked. “Oh, we never did.”
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Finally, Peace
That same day, we changed the locks.
Now?
Every time I open my fridge and find everything exactly where I left it, I smile.
Every time I put on an unworn dress, I breathe easier.
My home is finally, truly mine again.
And if Pamela wants to know what I’m eating or wearing these days?
She’ll just have to imagine.