I was cleaning the kitchen counter after another exhausting workday. The faint scent of bleach lingered in the air.

As I continued tidying up my mother’s house, my frustration with my younger sister, Jane, grew stronger. It seemed like she had entirely forgotten about Mom.

This wasn’t anything new for Jane. During her school years, she often acted carelessly—running away, snatching money from Mom’s handbag, and skipping classes. Despite all this, she was always forgiven.

Jane graduated with honors, secured a scholarship, and quickly became the family’s golden child.

Now, Jane only visited Mom when she wanted something—or perhaps just to remind Mom of her presence so she’d remain in the will. Meanwhile, I grappled with the full scope of Mom’s illness.

I had managed to hire a caregiver named Nancy, though I couldn’t afford her full time. After completing long shifts at my job, I took over caring for Mom by myself.

I had asked Jane to help, but she brushed it off each time. Yet, I knew she had been unemployed for months. I was balancing a job, a husband, and a son who also needed my attention.

“Violet!” Mom called from her room, her voice a mix of sharpness and fear.

“My gold earrings are gone,” she said, trembling slightly.

“Did anyone visit today?” I asked, frowning.

“No, Nancy had the day off,” Mom replied. “Only Jane came by this morning to check on me.”

“I’ll bring it up with Jane,” I replied, feeling a surge of suspicion.

“Don’t,” Mom said firmly. “Jane wouldn’t steal. I don’t want another fight between you two.”

That evening, once Mom was asleep, I drove to Jane’s apartment.

I was burning with frustration by the time I arrived. I knocked on her door, waiting impatiently. Finally, she opened it.

“Mom’s gold earrings are missing,” I said straight away.

Jane crossed her arms. “And you think it was me, right? As usual.”

“You were her only visitor today,” I pointed out.

“Why would I take her earrings?” Jane asked, her voice laced with defensiveness.

“Maybe because you’re out of money. Maybe for something ridiculous. Choose your reason,” I retorted.

“Do you know how much I’ve done for this family?” Jane retorted.

“You’ve done nothing! I’m the one managing everything!” I shouted, overwhelmed with anger.

She turned away dismissively. “Leave. I’ve had enough.”

“Fine,” I said, slamming the door as I left.

When I returned home, I found my husband Kaden putting on his coat.

“Just heading out for a walk,” he said, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Milo is asleep, and dinner’s in the fridge.” He then left, and I stood in silence.

Kaden had been a stay-at-home dad.

Over the following fortnight, Mom continually lamented about missing things.

Small items, such as pieces of jewelry and sentimental knick-knacks, were gone, always on the days Jane visited. My anger turned to fury. How could she be so selfish?

I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I drove to Jane’s house, determined to face her.

Jane raised an eyebrow. “You think I took them? Why would I?”

“Because this is typical for you! You’ve done it before, and I know you’re strapped for cash!” I fired back.

Her face hardened. “Why don’t you ask your husband what it’s like to be desperate for money?”

“Leave Kaden out of this!” I shouted. “He’s the only one who actually supports me!”

Jane scoffed. “If you’re so sure, call the police. Go on. Do it.”

Instead of involving the authorities, I decided to install hidden cameras in Mom’s home.

Upon entering the house, I was surprised to see Nancy. Her shift should have ended hours ago.

“Jane arranged for me to work extra hours so you could have a break,” Nancy explained while drying her hands.

Looking a bit confused, she continued, “She just asked that I not mention it to you.”

Right away, I set to work installing the cameras in the living room and Mom’s bedroom.

Afterward, I noticed a stack of recent medical bills on the kitchen counter. Flipping through them brought a pang of anxiety; the amounts were overwhelming.

Nancy peered over my shoulder at the papers. “Oh, we get these every month. Jane usually takes care of them.”

A few days passed when Mom called, her tone laden with anxiety. “My gold ring is missing,” she announced.

I figured it was time to check the surveillance footage. No one knew about the cameras, not even Mom, so if anyone was up to no good, they wouldn’t know where to hide.

I watched the video, noticing Jane in Mom’s room, standing near her dresser. I leaned in, convinced of her guilt.

She opened the jewelry box, peered inside, but then she shut the box, leaving empty-handed.

A few hours later, Kaden appeared.

I watched in speechless disbelief as he approached the jewelry box, slipped Mom’s gold ring into his pocket, and left.

My husband, my partner, was the thief.

“I know you’re the one who’s been stealing from Mom,” I told him, holding up the flash drive.

His face turned pale. “Did Jane tell you?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Why would Jane tell me?” I replied, both furious and confused.

Kaden sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I borrowed money from her. When she found out why, she stopped lending more. She even offered to pay for rehab, but I turned her down. Then she caught me taking your mom’s jewelry.”

“I got into gambling, thinking I could win back the money, but I kept losing. The debts stacked up faster than I could keep up. I borrowed more to pay off the old ones,” he admitted, his voice breaking.

“Do you want a divorce?” he asked, barely whispering.

Tears filled his eyes as he nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry, Violet. I love you and Milo more than anything,” he murmured before leaving.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, tears streamed down my cheeks. After checking on Milo, who was peacefully asleep, I drove over to Jane’s house.

When she opened the door, I could barely get the words out. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed, tears freely flowing.

Without hesitation, Jane pulled me into a comforting hug.