At first, I thought the worst part was dealing with the damage, but soon after, a shocking phone call revealed a betrayal far deeper than a wrecked vehicle. What began as a frustrating morning spiraled into a revelation that changed my son’s life forever.
I’m Sandra, 57 years old, a widow living in a quiet neighborhood. My son Derek, 28, and his wife Lindsay had been living with me for what was supposed to be a short while until they found their own place. But months had stretched on, and they were still here.
Derek has always been a good son—responsible, hardworking, and caring. He does his best to look after everyone. Lindsay, however, was another story. She and I never connected. There was always friction between us, and whenever Derek was around, he tried to smooth things over.
Two days ago, Derek left for a business trip, leaving me alone with her. The tension between us grew sharper. I stuck to my own routine, hoping to avoid unnecessary conflict.
Then, one morning, I woke to the sound of a heavy thud outside. Alarmed, I rushed out to the driveway only to find my car badly damaged—its bumper dented, headlights shattered, and a side mirror lying on the ground. My stomach dropped. The car had been fine the night before.
As I stood there stunned, Lindsay stepped out onto the porch, sipping her coffee with an air of detachment.
“Good morning,” she said casually.
“Morning? Look at my car, Lindsay—it’s wrecked!” I exclaimed, pointing at the damage.
She glanced at it briefly. “Yeah, I noticed that.”
“You noticed? Do you know what happened?” I pressed.
She shrugged. “I took it out last night. The brakes didn’t work properly. Probably why it got banged up.”
“You took my car? Without asking?” My voice shook with disbelief.
“Well, you weren’t using it,” she said coolly. “And I needed to go somewhere.”
“Where could you possibly need to go in the middle of the night?” I demanded.
“That’s none of your concern,” she snapped. “And don’t expect me to pay for anything. Your old car’s brakes failed. Not my fault.”
I clenched my fists, trying not to lose my temper. “You damaged it. You should be responsible.”
But she only crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “It’s just a car. I’m not paying a dime.”
I thought of Derek’s words before he left—“Don’t fight with her, Mom. I’ll handle it when I’m back.” I tried to hold myself together.
At that moment, my phone rang. It was Derek.
“Mom, what’s going on? Lindsay texted me saying you’re giving her a hard time,” he said wearily.
“Derek, she took my car without asking and crashed it. Now she’s refusing to take responsibility!” I explained, voice trembling.
He sighed. “Mom, I’ll deal with it when I get back. Please, just don’t argue with her.”
I wanted to push harder, but I could tell he was tired and stressed. I reluctantly agreed, though inside I felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right.
That evening, Lindsay claimed she was going to meet a friend. I didn’t believe her, so I called Derek again. “Something’s off,” I told him. “She’s sneaking around, and I don’t trust what she’s up to.”
Derek admitted he’d also been suspicious but didn’t want to assume the worst. He told me to keep an eye on things until he returned.
Later that night, Lindsay came home looking startled to see me waiting up. I asked casually about her evening. She gave vague answers, avoiding eye contact. When I pressed about which friend she met, she hesitated before saying “a friend from work.” Her lie was obvious.
The next day, Derek called me again, this time sounding urgent. “Mom, I just heard something strange. A buddy of mine was supposed to meet a woman from a dating site last night, but she canceled after saying she’d been in an accident. The description he gave—it sounds exactly like Lindsay.”
My blood ran cold. Suddenly, everything clicked—the late-night outings, the secrecy, the car accident.
“Derek, what do you want me to do?” I asked.
“Pack her things,” he said firmly. “When I get home tonight, she’s out of the house. I’m done with her lies.”
I started gathering her belongings. The moment Lindsay walked in and saw me, her eyes went wide.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Kicking you out. Your lies are finished,” I said firmly.
“You’ll regret this,” she snapped. “I’m calling Derek right now!”
But whatever Derek said to her during that call, it ended with her leaving the house in a fury.
When Derek came home, he was heartbroken but resolute. After confronting Lindsay, he filed for divorce. It wasn’t an easy decision, but her betrayal ran too deep.
In the end, karma had done its work. She had wrecked not only my car but also her marriage through her dishonesty. As painful as it was for Derek, he knew he deserved better than deceit.