When I went home earlier than usual, I didn’t expect to find my ex-husband in my house without my permission. His reason for being there left me surprised, and when I learned the truth behind his breaking in, it left me more shocked than I ever imagined.
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As I pulled into the driveway of my grandfather’s old house, a place that had become my sanctuary since his move to the nursing home, I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. But as soon as I stepped inside, a strange feeling crept over me.
You know, the feeling you get when you aren’t alone but don’t see anyone else? I headed to the kitchen and placed my bag on the counter, trying to shake off the unease. But then I heard it; a faint noise, barely audible, coming from the basement.
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It sounded like something metallic scraping against something solid. My heart rate quickened as I whispered to myself, “What could be making that sound?” My hands shook as I grabbed the first thing I could find, a bronze candlestick from the mantel, and lit it for light.
I bravely tiptoed toward the basement door while my heart pounded out of my chest. I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the doorknob as my mind raced through the possibilities. Was it a broken pipe? A raccoon? Or was someone in my house?
A woman holding a candlestick while going down to the basement | Source: Midjourney
When I slowly opened the door that separated me from the strange noise… my eyes went wide when I saw HIM in front of me! With his back to me, hunched over a small section of the floor, was Peter… my ex-husband.
A man in the basement | Source: Midjourney
In his hands was a crowbar, and he was prying at what appeared to be a hidden hatch in the concrete. I froze, gripping the candlestick, trying to process what I was seeing. Peter wasn’t supposed to be here.
We hadn’t spoken much since the divorce, and certainly not enough for him to be in my house, in my basement, with a crowbar. “Peter?” My voice came out more as a whisper than a shout, but it was enough to make him spin around.
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With shock etched on his face, he dropped the crowbar with a loud clang! “Jessica!” he exclaimed, his face pale as he stepped back from the hatch. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling with anger and confusion. “And what is that?” I pointed to the hatch, which I had never noticed before in all the years I’d lived here.
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Explain? You’d better start talking, or I’m calling the police.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and held it up as a threat. My thumb hovered over the screen, ready to dial 911 if he didn’t start talking.
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“WAIT! Don’t call the police, Jessica,” he pleaded, raising his hands in surrender. “Your grandfather told me about this. He said there was family treasure hidden under the house, and he asked me to take care of it.”
I stared at him, incredulous. “Family treasure? What are you talking about?” None of this made any sense. My grandfather never mentioned anything about hidden treasure, and the idea that he would tell Peter, of all people, was absurd!
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My ex took a step closer, trying to look sincere. “I swear, I’m telling the truth. He called me after you last visited him. He said he didn’t want to burden you with it, not until everything was settled. He wanted to make sure the treasure was safe.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The more Peter talked, the more ridiculous his story sounded. But there was something in his eyes, fear, maybe guilt, that made me pause.
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“I didn’t break in,” he muttered, looking down at his feet. “I still had the key.” That confession hit me like a punch to the gut! I’d completely forgotten that my ex-husband still had a key to the house from the time we were married.
He got the key to help assist my grandfather in his ailing years. The realization made my stomach churn with anger and betrayal. “Give me the key,” I demanded, holding out my hand.
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My tone left no room for argument. Peter hesitated for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. He placed it in my hand, his touch lingering for a moment too long.
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“Get out,” I said, stepping back and pointing toward the stairs. “And don’t you DARE come back. If I see you here again, I won’t hesitate to call the police!” Peter opened his mouth as if to say something more, but then thought better of it.
He grabbed his jacket from a chair in the corner and left without another word. I listened to the sound of his footsteps as he ascended the stairs, the front door closing softly behind him. Only when I was sure he was gone did I allow myself to breathe again.
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I turned my attention back to the hatch, my curiosity now tinged with anger. What had my grandfather told Peter? And why? I knelt next to the hatch, which my ex had managed to pry open enough to get a grip on it.
I hesitated, wondering if I should even open it. But I needed to know what was down there, if anything. Using the crowbar Peter had left behind, I lifted the hatch. It creaked loudly as it opened, revealing a dark, narrow space beneath.
A woman looking at the open latch in her basement | Source: Midjourney
Of course, there was no treasure! My grandfather was practical, never one for games or secrets. The idea that he’d hide something valuable under the house was ridiculous! Shaking my head, I closed the hatch and stood up, the weight of the day settling on my shoulders.
A woman closing the hatch in the basement | Source: Midjourney
I needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to me. Without wasting any more time, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, driving straight to my grandfather’s nursing home where he lived.
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“He said you told him there was family treasure hidden under the house. What’s going on?”
My grandfather looked up from his book, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he grabbed the tea beside him. “Ah, so he took the bait,” he said, setting the book aside. “I had a feeling he would.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting down beside him. “Why would you tell him something like that?”
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“I needed you to see what kind of man he was and if he was worthy of you as you believed. So I called him, played up the forgetful old man act, and told him about the ‘family treasure’ hidden under the house that I needed him to take care of.”
“Yes, he was,” my grandfather confirmed, his expression turning serious. “I wanted to see if he’d put his interests above yours. It was a test, and I’m sorry you had to go through it, but I needed you to be sure.”
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I nodded, the anger I’d felt earlier dissipating. My grandfather had always looked out for me, even when I didn’t realize it. “Thank you, Grandpa. You helped me see the truth.”
He smiled again, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re safe. And remember, Jessy, sometimes people don’t change, no matter how much we want them to.”
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I know now that I should trust my instincts and I don’t need to hold on to the past to protect my future.
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If this tale had your blood curling, you’ll love this next one about two schoolboys who visited an abandoned school. While one of the boys wanted to prove he wasn’t a scared cat, what they discovered in the basement had them running to call the police!
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.