Felix, a single dad in his mid-30s, was relaxing in his armchair, barely paying attention to the TV in his small, slightly worn living room. The sound of the sitcom couldn’t hide the loneliness he felt since losing his wife in a car crash seven years ago.
Felix found comfort in his job as a janitor and in raising his daughter, Alice. She brought him joy, reminding him of the happy moments he once had with her mother.
One day, Felix noticed his elderly neighbor struggling to cut her overgrown lawn. Wanting to help, he rushed over to mow it for her. Grateful, the woman insisted on giving him a strange, antique box as a thank-you gift.
But that gift quickly led to trouble when Felix received an urgent phone call from the woman’s lawyer, requesting a meeting.
One day, Felix heard a noise outside and glanced out the window. He saw his elderly neighbor, Mrs. White, struggling with her lawnmower. Mrs. White was known for being independent despite her age, but today, she clearly needed help.
Without a second thought, Felix walked over and offered his assistance. “Let me help you with that, Mrs. White,” he said, taking control of the lawnmower. Together, they worked quietly under the warm afternoon sun, finishing the task in no time.
After they finished, Mrs. White smiled warmly and thanked Felix.
“Felix, you’ve always been so kind, helping me without expecting anything in return.”
Felix, ever humble, replied, “It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. White.”
Wanting to show her gratitude, Mrs. White offered him a beautifully decorated box. Felix hesitated, feeling uncomfortable accepting such an expensive-looking gift. “I can’t accept this, Mrs. White,” he said.
Respecting his decision, Mrs. White smiled and handed him a bag of apples instead.
“Then please, at least take these apples for Alice,” she said, gently urging him.
Felix thanked Mrs. White for the apples and headed home. Once inside, he gave the apples to his daughter, Alice, who eagerly accepted them, her eyes lighting up.
“Thank you, Daddy!” she said with excitement.
As Felix settled back into his quiet evening, Alice made an unexpected discovery. She pulled out the same ornate box that Mrs. White had tried to give Felix earlier.
Surprised, she ran over to him, holding the box and exclaiming, “Daddy! Look what was in the bag with the apples!”
The mysterious box in Felix’s hands stirred up curiosity about why Mrs. White had hidden it among the apples. Felix, feeling uneasy, told Alice, “Alice, we can’t keep this. It’s not ours.”
Alice, intrigued, responded, “But Dad, what if there’s something cool inside? Something we need?”
Felix shook his head gently and said, “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t make it ours. This box belongs to someone else, and we need to respect that.”
Accepting her father’s decision, Alice agreed, and Felix set off to return the box to Mrs. White. When he reached her house, a strange, foreboding silence greeted him.
“Mrs. White?” Felix called out, but there was no answer. The stillness of the house felt heavy as he cautiously searched for her. Finally, he found her lying motionless on the couch. It was clear that Mrs. White had quietly passed away.
Felix stood there in shock, the box in his hand, unsure of what to do next.
Shocked and unsure of what to do, Felix stood frozen, the weight of Mrs. White’s death sinking in. He knew he needed to call someone, but he hesitated, glancing between her lifeless body and the mysterious box in his hands.
After a moment of inner conflict, Felix made a decision. He stepped back, leaving the house with the box still in his grasp, now feeling like a heavy, burdensome secret he carried with him.
Back home, the box sat on his table, its presence feeling more ominous with every passing moment.
Curious and anxious, Felix began researching the box online. He typed “antique box gold diamond inserts” into the search bar and quickly found similar items listed for enormous sums of money, with one even valued at $250,000. The discovery shocked him, tempting him with the thought of financial security for Alice. But it also tugged at his conscience, leaving him conflicted about what to do.
Just as Felix was deep in thought, the phone suddenly rang, shattering the silence.
Felix’s heart raced as an unknown voice spoke over the phone, “Good evening, is this Felix? My name is Jonathan Pryce. I am Mrs. White’s attorney. I believe it is imperative for us to discuss a matter of significant concern. Can we arrange a face-to-face meeting?”
Feeling a wave of nervousness, Felix replied, “Sure, we can meet. How about tomorrow?”
“Let’s convene at ‘Café Lorraine’ on the main street at 10 a.m. It’s a quiet place, conducive for such discussions,” Mr. Pryce suggested.
“Okay, I’ll be there,” Felix confirmed, ending the call with his heart pounding. What could this meeting be about? He glanced once more at the mysterious box, unsure of what was coming next.
Felix arrived at ‘Café Lorraine’ and spotted Mrs. White’s lawyer, Jonathan Pryce, seated at a corner table. To his surprise, sitting next to him was a man Felix didn’t recognize.
As he approached, Jonathan introduced the stranger. “This is Henry, Mrs. White’s son.”
Felix was stunned—he had no idea Mrs. White had a family.
Without wasting any time, Henry spoke, his tone sharp and accusatory. “I know you were at my mother’s house yesterday,” he said, glaring at Felix.
Felix quickly defended himself, “I was just helping her out, like I often did.”
Henry’s face hardened. “My mother had an antique box with significant sentimental value to our family. It’s been in our family for generations… and now it’s gone. Things like that don’t just disappear.”
Feeling cornered and uneasy, Felix said nothing, which led Henry to make a proposal.
“Listen, I don’t care how it happened, but I need that box back. I’m willing to pay you a thousand dollars for its return. No questions asked,” Henry offered.
Felix, knowing the box’s true value, shot back, “I’m not an idiot. I know that box is worth a lot more than what you’re offering. And no, I didn’t steal it. Your mother gave it to me willingly.”
Henry was caught off guard as Felix declared, “I’ve decided to auction the box. If it means that much to you, you’re welcome to bid on it, just like anyone else.”
With that, Felix abruptly left the café, feeling both defiant and apprehensive about the unfolding situation.
The following day at the auction, experts gathered around the box, marveling at its craftsmanship. They began questioning Felix about its origins. Under their intense scrutiny, Felix hesitated and stammered, “It was… it was an inheritance,” which only fueled their suspicions.
The situation grew tense as experts demanded proof of ownership for the box. Talk of involving the police began to circulate.
Panicked and unprepared, Felix stammered, “I… I don’t have them with me.”
Feeling the walls closing in, Felix made a desperate decision to escape. He fled the auction house, overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty about the legal trouble he might face.
Back home, Felix was plagued by thoughts of the box and its potential to change their lives. Realizing he needed proof of the box’s legitimacy, he knew he had to return to Mrs. White’s house to find it.
Late that night, Felix sneaked into Mrs. White’s house, frantically searching for any documents that might prove his claim to the box. Despite his desperate efforts, he found nothing.
As his frustration grew, a sudden noise startled him. He turned to see Henry standing in the doorway.
“I knew you’d come,” Henry said, his voice carrying a mix of disappointment and resignation. “After I heard about the auction, I figured you’d show up here looking for something to legitimize your claim to that box.”
Feeling trapped and defenseless, Felix listened as Henry outlined his conditions.
“Felix, you’ve made a grave mistake,” Henry continued, his tone stern. “Breaking and entering is a criminal offense. But I’m willing to overlook it if you do exactly as I say.”
Henry’s terms were harsh but straightforward. “You have until tomorrow. Bring the box to me, or I’ll have no choice but to report this to the police. They’ll be very interested in your little nocturnal visit.”
Feeling defeated and realizing he had no real choice, Felix reluctantly agreed. Henry escorted him out, and Felix returned home, overwhelmed by the seriousness of his predicament.
Felix weighed his limited options: he could either surrender the box to Henry, avoiding legal trouble but forfeiting any potential financial gain, or take a risk that could jeopardize his and Alice’s future.
In his turmoil, Felix decided to send Alice to her grandmother’s house, far from the looming trouble. He packed a bag for her, including the box, as a precaution.
Just then, Alice appeared, noticing her father’s distress. “Dad, what’s going on? You look upset,” she asked with innocent concern.
Felix knew he had to explain everything to Alice. He paced his living room, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily on him.
“Alice,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, “this box is really important. It’s worth $250,000, and it could change our lives. But I can’t keep it. I need you to take it to Grandma in Virginia.”
Alice, overwhelmed by the news, asked, “But why can’t you come with me, Dad?”
Felix sighed deeply. “I might not be around for a little while, sweetheart. There’s a chance I’ll have to… go away for some time. But I promise it won’t be forever. I’ll do everything I can to come back to you.”
As they packed, Felix reassured Alice of her strength and the importance of their plan. At the bus station, amidst a heartfelt goodbye, he watched her board the bus, feeling a piece of his heart leave with her.
Returning home to the heavy silence of the now-empty house, Felix made a crucial decision.
He picked up the phone and called Henry. “I don’t have the box, Henry. It’s out of my hands,” he said firmly. “I’m ready to turn myself in. You can call the police.”
Soon, the police arrived and took Felix away without resistance. As he was led out, his thoughts were solely focused on Alice’s safety and their future.
Months later, in prison, Felix’s routine was suddenly interrupted by a guard’s commanding voice. “Pack your things and come with me!”
Confused but hopeful, Felix followed the guard, his mind racing with possibilities. When they arrived, he was met with a sight that filled him with immense relief and joy: Alice was waiting for him.
“Dad,” she said, her voice breaking through the gloom of his prison life, her presence instantly lifting his spirits.
Alice explained that she had finally unlocked the box and discovered documents and a letter from Mrs. White. The letter revealed that Mrs. White wanted Felix to inherit the box. With this newfound evidence, Alice managed to secure his release.
“I couldn’t believe it myself, Dad,” Alice said, her eyes shining with determination. “After you sent me away, I kept thinking about the box, about the code… And then, one day, it just clicked!”
Felix was deeply moved by Mrs. White’s final act of kindness and Alice’s unwavering resolve.
“So, I took those papers and found a buyer who collects antiques like this one. They didn’t just buy the box, Dad. They also helped me find a lawyer, explained bail, and how we could fight the case.”
Reunited, Felix and Alice embraced tightly, ready to face their new beginning. “We don’t have to worry anymore,” Alice assured him. “We have enough to start over, but more importantly, we have each other. And we’re going to get through this, one step at a time.”
I Received a Panicked Video Message from My Mom — I Was Stunned to Learn What Dad Had Done to Her.
While Annie is having a lazy Saturday, sitting around and scrolling through social media, a video message from her mom pops up. As she hits play, Annie discovers that one of her father’s pranks has left her mother scared and alone. Annie rushes over to her parents’ house, ready to teach her father a lesson.
I didn’t think my dad would ever take one of his dumb jokes this far, but here we are, having lived through it. My phone lit up earlier today with a video message from my mom that made my heart stop for a second.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw, and now, hours later, I’m still trying to process the whole thing.
Let me back up a second and give you some context on how everything went down. My dad is what you’d call “old school.” He has this grumpy exterior, like he came straight out of the 1970s and never quite adapted to life in the present.
He’s not a bad guy, but he can be ridiculously difficult to get along with. He doesn’t do heart-to-hearts or deep conversations. Instead, he sheds part of his grumpiness off when he’s at home and leans into his pranking nature. They are harmless, annoying little pranks that he thinks are hilarious but leave my mom rolling her eyes and sighing.
Most of the time, Dad does really stupid stuff like hiding Mom’s glasses when she’s looking for them or misplacing her keys right when she’s about to leave. These pranks have always been annoying, but nothing too wild.
Except today.
Today, Dad decided to really outdo himself.
I was in my little apartment about 20 minutes from my parents’ house. I was minding my own business, sipping on a soft drink and scrolling through TikTok, when my phone pinged with a message from my mother.
A video message.
The thumbnail was black, and all I could hear was her voice, which was muffled and kind of shaky. Like she was afraid of something.
That’s when I got a bit panicked. Mom wasn’t the type to send video messages. To be honest, I didn’t think she knew how to do it. Immediately, I knew that something was off.
I tapped play, and there she was. The camera was all shaky, and she was crouched in a corner, whispering like she was about to be caught by someone or something.
“Annie,” she breathed into the phone. “Sweetheart, your dad… he locked me in the basement. Can you come help me? He thinks this is funny. All because he wanted to eat in peace. I think there are rats or mice in the basement, Annie. Come quickly.”
What. The. Hell.
I was so shocked, I nearly dropped my phone onto the floor. Locked in the basement? He locked her in the basement? And it was supposed to be funny?
My dad, in all his “wisdom,” had apparently decided that the best way to enjoy his dinner in peace was to lock my mother in the basement. Just so that she wouldn’t remind him to eat his veggies during a precious football game? He truly didn’t care about his cholesterol.
I called her back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” I muttered.
My brain went straight into overdrive. My mom never asked for help unless things were way beyond something she could do for herself. She was a woman who could handle herself. I mean, she’s lived with my father for years, so that had to count for something. But she was also a woman who was deeply afraid of the dark and confined places.
So now, she was locked in the basement and not answering her phone. Dad had really crossed a line with this one.
I texted her, but there was no response.
“Maybe her phone died, Annie,” I told myself. “She must be so afraid… and livid.”
I knew I had to get to her as soon as possible.
I grabbed my keys and bolted out of my apartment. I live about twenty minutes away from my parents, but I swear, I made it in twelve.
The entire drive, I was fuming, and I already knew how this was going to end. My dad thought he was clever, but if there’s one thing I inherited from him, other than his eye color, it’s the ability to come up with a solid revenge plan.
“I can’t believe the nerve of this man,” I said to myself as I turned into our street.
When I got to the house, I didn’t even bother knocking. I had my spare key, so I let myself in. As soon as I stepped inside, I could hear the muffled sound of the TV blaring from the living room.
Classic Dad.
He was probably sitting there, stuffing his face with steak. It was a home routine—Saturdays meant steak for dinner. Little did he know, I was about to teach him a lesson, too.
I headed straight for the basement. Sure enough, the door was locked, but the key hung from the hook next to the door.
I knocked softly, and Mom’s relieved voice came through the wood.
“Honey, is that you?” she whispered.
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom,” I said. “Hang tight, we’re getting you out of there.”
I unlocked the door, and when my mother stepped out, she didn’t even look mad. She just looked tired. But there was a glint in her eye, like she wanted to get revenge on my father, too.
“Dad’s still in the living room,” I said. “He didn’t even hear me come in.”
“Oh? He’s still enjoying his victory, then?”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to be short-lived, Mom,” I said.
There’s one thing about my father: he loves his “throne.” It’s a ridiculous electric recliner that he spent way too much money on a few years ago. He loves it more than any person in the world, which is sad and pathetic, but true.
The chair has heated seats, a massage feature, and even USB ports. He treats it like it’s something sacred in our home.
Naturally, I aimed my revenge at it.
I told my mom the plan, and she laughed nervously. We crept toward the living room where Dad was zoned out, still glued to his game, digging into his dinner.
I quietly unplugged his precious chair from the wall. And the best part? This man didn’t even notice a thing. Then, with my mom watching, I pulled a little tube of super glue that I had taken from the kitchen.
I smeared it over the chair’s buttons, still absolutely perplexed that my father didn’t register that I was in the room, right next to him.
After that, Mom and I went back to the kitchen. We sat on the bar stools in silence as Mom opened a tub of cookies for us to nibble on.
Ten minutes later, the game went to half-time. We could hear Dad shift in his chair and he tried to press the recline button. Nothing happened. He frowned and pressed it again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
“What the heck?” he grumbled, fiddling with the controls. Then, I saw it. The moment when the realization hit him.
He started pulling at the armrests, trying to get up, but his hands were stuck. His face turned from confusion to full-on panic.
“What’s wrong, Frank?” Mom asked, strolling into the living room.
“The darn chair is broken!” he complained.
“Oh, really? Maybe because you overuse it. But wasn’t it fine before you locked me in the basement?” Mom asked.
My father’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t… Wait! How did you get out?” he asked.
“Annie,” Mom said simply.
I stepped out from my spot in the kitchen, where I had been recording their conversation.
“Smile for the camera, Dad,” I said. “This is going in the family group chat!”
“You wouldn’t dare, Annie!” he barked at me, tugging helplessly at his stuck hands.
“Oh, but I would,” I said.
I pressed send, and the replies started rolling in soon. If there was one thing my father hated, it was being seen beyond his usual façade. He didn’t want people to see the real him. And this was him, an ugly person.
“I’m taking Mom home with me for the rest of the weekend,” I said. “You can figure out how to get yourself off your throne.”
Mom went upstairs to pack herself an overnight bag. I didn’t want to leave her with Dad. But I doubt he’ll be locking anyone in the basement anytime soon.
What would you have done?
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