I Found a Lace Robe Hidden in My Husbands Closet, Then I Saw My Stepmother Wearing It

When Calla discovers a lace robe hidden in her husband’s closet, she initially thinks it’s a thoughtful surprise. But everything changes when she finds her stepmother, Lorraine, wearing it. Suspicion grows as Calla overhears the shocking truth behind Lorraine’s scheme…

When my father passed away last year, the house felt empty, devoid of its soul. He had built it with his own hands—a sprawling two-story home that always smelled of pine and fresh paint. After his death, my husband Jason, our six-year-old daughter Emma, and I moved in to help Lorraine, my stepmother.

Lorraine had been married to my dad for just five years, but she never let anyone forget that she had been his “rock” during his final days.

“You can’t deny it, darling,” she said to me after her speech at the funeral. “Honestly, Calla, if I’d gone on my trip to Thailand, your father would have died alone. All alone. Poor thing.”

Living with Lorraine was like walking a tightrope—her stilettos, her words, her gaze that lingered just a bit too long on Jason when she thought I wasn’t watching.

But family is family, and I tried to make it work.

That is, until I found the robe.

It all started innocently enough. I was folding laundry, something I did regularly, when I noticed something out of place in Jason’s closet. There, tucked away behind his jackets, was a glossy gift bag.

Curious, I pulled it out. My pulse quickened when I saw the delicate lace robe inside—intimate, sheer, and beautiful.

My first thought was that Jason had bought it for me. Christmas was just around the corner, and though he wasn’t the most romantic, maybe he was trying something new. I smiled at the idea of him stepping out of his comfort zone.

That smile didn’t last long.

A few days later, Lorraine called me into her room, her voice sickly sweet. The room had been redecorated since my father’s death—now it was a deep maroon, rich and seductive, the kind of atmosphere Lorraine seemed to thrive in.

“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 lace robe—the one I’d found in Jason’s closet. She twirled, the lace swirling around her like a cruel joke.

“You like it?” she purred. “My boyfriend has exquisite taste, don’t you think? And I have heels that will make it even better.”

I couldn’t breathe. My mind raced, but the thoughts refused to fit together.

Was Jason… no. Lorraine? No, surely not. Unless… would he?

“Where… where did you get that?” I managed to ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Lorraine smirked. “Oh, my boyfriend gave it to me, Calla. Didn’t I just say that?”

I stumbled out of her room, my head spinning. That night, after reading with Emma, I cornered Jason.

“Jason,” I began, my heart pounding. “I need to ask you something, and I want the truth.”

He looked up, confused. “What’s wrong, honey? Let me pause this.”

“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 it to me before dinner tonight,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “The same one I found in your closet.”

Jason’s jaw dropped.

“You think I’d buy her something like that? Are you serious?” he asked.

“Then how did she get it?” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” he said, running his hand through his hair, looking genuinely frustrated. “I swear, I didn’t give her anything! The only thing I gave her today was some garlic bread at dinner.”

The unease gnawed at me for days. Lorraine’s smug glances, Jason’s denials—it was a puzzle with missing pieces.

Then, one afternoon, as I organized Emma’s art supplies, I overheard 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’d planned it. The robe, the lies, everything. It was all a scheme to tear apart my marriage and drive us out of the house my father had built.

That night, I told Jason everything I had overheard. His face darkened with anger, and he crushed his beer can in his fist.

“She’s trying to ruin our marriage,” he growled. “And to think we uprooted Emma for this? This ends now.”

We devised a plan.

The next morning, I casually mentioned to Lorraine that Jason and I were considering moving out. Her face lit up, though she tried to mask it with feigned concern.

“Oh, well, if you think that’s best…” she said, clearly thrilled.

Later that evening, Jason and I invited a lawyer friend over—someone Lorraine didn’t know. We told her he was a realtor helping us find a new home, but really, we wanted to see where we stood. Lorraine spent the dinner talking about how much she preferred living alone.

“I’m old now,” she said, as though convincing herself. “I need my space. You kids probably need yours too. Don’t you want to give Emma a sibling?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Honestly, I don’t know what I want.”

A week later, we called a “family meeting” in the living room. Lorraine strutted in, convinced she had 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 coolly. “We had it reviewed. Turns out, Calla and I are the primary beneficiaries. You don’t own this house, Lorraine. We do.”

Her face drained of color.

“That’s not possible. Calla! What did you do? Your father would never leave me with nothing…”

“He didn’t leave you with nothing,” I replied. “He left you with plenty. But this is my childhood home. Of course, he would want me to have it.”

Lorraine tried to protest, but Jason cut her off.

“And before you try any more tricks, know this: we’re not leaving. But you might want to start packing.”

“Or you can ask your ‘boyfriend’ to take you in,” I added casually.

Lorraine froze, her confidence evaporating.

“Wait… there’s no boyfriend?” I asked.

She faltered, then admitted, “I staged the whole thing. There is no boyfriend. No affair. I wanted you to believe it, to think something was going on.”

“I know,” I said. “I overheard you. But you have a week to pack. It’s what my father would expect.”

“I’ll do better. I’ll help with everything—cooking, cleaning, homework with Emma!” she begged.

“I don’t want my child around you,” I said simply. “That’s how I feel.”

Within a week, Lorraine was gone. The house was finally at peace, and I turned her old room into a cozy reading space for myself, half of it a playroom for Emma.

As for the robe?

Lorraine had left it behind. I donated it along with the rest of her things. Let someone else enjoy it—I sure wasn’t keeping it.

What would you have done?