My Stepson Didnt Know Our Door Camera Had a Mic, What I Heard Him Say about His Bio Mom Left Me in Tears

Every Sunday at 5 p.m. sharp, Josh returned from his mother’s house, and each time, he walked through the front door, kicked off his shoes, and silently disappeared into his room. The cheerful, curious ten-year-old I had grown close to seemed to vanish during those visits, replaced by a withdrawn and irritable boy. I noticed it immediately, but I didn’t want to overstep. As his stepmother, I never knew how far I could go, even though Josh had always been kind and affectionate with me.

One evening, after another tense Sunday return, I looked at my husband, Patrick, as we chopped vegetables for dinner. “Do you think he’s okay?” I asked.

“He’s probably fine,” Patrick replied, trying to sound reassuring. “Linda can be intense. She probably just lectured him again.”

“But I lecture him too,” I pointed out. “He jokes with me about it. This is different.”

“If you’re that worried, just talk to him,” Patrick offered. “I’ll check in with him after dinner too.”

Josh had changed so much since he moved in with us. In the beginning, he was full of life, always eager to share stories and spend time with me in the kitchen. Now, we had to coax him out of his shell every time he came back from Linda’s. We made his favorite meals, played games, even planned special movie nights. Nothing seemed to lift his spirits.

After dinner, Patrick tried to get Josh to open up. I lingered in the kitchen, pretending to clean while listening. “It’s just… draining, being there,” Josh admitted. “But I know it’s important to spend time with Mom.”

Patrick offered to switch to alternate weekends if that would help, but Josh just went quiet and excused himself to bed. On his way, he surprised me by wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. “Good night, Liv,” he said softly, and I felt how heavy his little heart was.

The truth came out the following weekend. Patrick had gone shopping, and I was alone on the couch, waiting for Josh. Our new security system, installed after a streak of neighborhood thefts, was synced with the TV. The moment there was movement on the porch, the feed replaced whatever show we were watching. I was sipping tea when the screen suddenly switched to a live view of the front door—Josh and Linda were standing there.

“Here are your cookies,” Linda said, handing him a container. “And don’t forget what you have to do.”

Josh hesitated. “Mom, I don’t want to.”

“You have to tell them the truth,” he added desperately. “I hate lying to Dad. If he knew you were making me steal from the house every week, he’d be furious!”

My blood ran cold.

Josh went on, pleading with her to stop. “Liv’s going to notice her things are missing. The sanitary pads, the lotion… Mom, I can’t keep doing it.”

I felt sick. So I hadn’t imagined it—my personal items had been vanishing, and now I knew why.

Linda’s voice cut through, sharp and unapologetic. “So what? They’ve got money. I told you, I need one of Olivia’s necklaces or rings next time. If I can pawn one, I can clear my debt.”

She even told him to grab the emergency cash Patrick kept hidden. “Your father keeps a wad in his sock drawer. Helping your mother is an emergency.”

I was in shock, but more than that, I was heartbroken. Josh had been suffering under the weight of his mother’s manipulation, torn between loyalty and guilt. I didn’t hesitate. I marched to the front door and flung it open.

“Linda,” I said firmly.

Josh looked startled, reaching for a hug.

“I heard everything,” I told her, and Linda’s eyes flicked nervously.

Josh clung to me, his breathing uneven. “Josh, go to your room for a bit, sweetheart,” I said gently. Once he was gone, I turned to Linda. “What’s going on?”

Under the pressure of my questions—and the threat of calling Patrick—Linda confessed. She was drowning in debt and desperate. She didn’t even try to deny it.

“I’ll help you,” I told her. “I’ll give you money to get back on your feet. But you are not to involve Josh ever again. He stays with us until you can be a mother without forcing him to lie and steal. Understand?”

“He’s my son,” she muttered bitterly.

“No,” I said. “He’s a child. And you’re using him. If you don’t stop, I’ll press charges.”

Linda’s face fell as she realized I meant every word. She nodded, muttered a thank-you, and walked away.

As I turned to go back inside, wondering how to explain this to Patrick, Josh came running toward me, tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “I didn’t want to steal.”

“I know,” I whispered, pulling him close. “It’s not your fault. We’re going to fix this. I promise.”

What would you have done in my place?