Things in My House Started Moving Around, I Installed a Security Camera and Was Shocked When I Saw the Footage

Heart pounding, I called the police. When they arrived, I showed them the footage. “We’ll keep an eye on the area,” the officer assured me. “Until then, please keep everything locked up.”

Still, I couldn’t live in constant fear, so I agreed with the officer’s plan: I’d leave for errands but watch the live feed from a nearby café. The next day, I stationed myself across the street, laptop in hand, nervously watching the footage. Hours passed in tense silence, but then, as I was about to leave, my front door creaked open on camera.

There he was, the intruder. I called the officer with trembling hands, whispering, “He’s here—inside my house right now.” Within minutes, the police arrived, surrounding the house. I watched in horror as they confronted the figure, who tried to flee out the back door but was quickly apprehended. They pulled off his mask, revealing something that shattered me.

It was my son.

I stumbled out of the café, racing to my backyard where he was being restrained. “Why, Trevor?” I choked, barely able to speak. He laughed bitterly, glaring at me with eyes full of resentment. “You cut me off years ago. I needed money, and you were here, living in this big house by yourself!”

His plan had been to make me seem unfit to manage my own affairs so he could take over and sell the house. Years of regret and self-doubt flooded over me as he spat out his accusations. This was my son—the child I’d raised, come back only to torment me for money.

In the end, I chose to pay off his debts, but I severed all ties. “Don’t come near me again, Trevor,” I said, feeling a hollowness I’d never known before. As I hung up the phone, it felt like I’d lost him all over again.