For weeks, I stayed up late, watching camera footage and setting traps, determined to catch the person stealing from my small grocery store. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found when I finally caught them—a truth that had been hidden from me for long years.
At my age, most people were thinking about retirement, buying a little house in Florida, or taking long vacations. But not me.
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I was thinking about how to make my store better. When you owned a business, especially a small grocery store like mine, there was no such thing as rest. I had run this store for many years.
Over time, new shops had opened nearby, and competition had grown, but I never gave up.
I worked hard to make my store more than just a place to buy food. I wanted people to feel welcome, like they were visiting an old friend.
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Some of my customers had been coming for twenty or even thirty years. I watched them grow up, fall in love, and start families.
Then their kids started coming in—and that meant the world to me. It meant I had done something right.
But recently, something felt off. I started noticing little things missing from the shelves.
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Not just one or two items, but enough to make me wonder. I stocked everything myself, so I knew what was there. Something was definitely wrong.
Mr. Green came up to the register with a small basket in his hand. He gave me a friendly smile. “How are you doing today, Margaret?” he asked.
“I’m doing fine, thank you. How about you?” I said with a smile.
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“I’m good,” he said. “But I noticed something. There’s not much dairy on the shelves. You usually have the best selection in town.”
I looked at him, surprised. “That can’t be right. I filled the whole section just yesterday. Every last shelf.”
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Maybe you missed something. Or maybe it’s time to slow down. You ever think about handing the store over to someone else? Do you have kids?”
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His words hit me hard. I froze for a moment, then looked straight at him. I didn’t smile this time. “Goodbye, Mr. Green,” I said firmly. I bagged his items and handed them to him without another word.
As if! I still had plenty of strength. Mr. Green acted like I was ready for a rocking chair and soft food. I was not even sixty yet!
I worked hard every day, lifting boxes, sweeping floors, and dealing with customers. But his words touched a spot deep inside me. A place I tried to keep buried.
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Children.
I had a daughter once. Just one. She ran away from home fifteen years ago. No phone call. No goodbye. Just a note.
She said she was leaving to start a new life. I searched for her everywhere. I called the police, but they said she left on her own, so it was not their job.
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That made me so angry. She was my child. She was still so young. How could they not help?
I shook my head and forced myself back to the present. I walked to the dairy fridge. It was still early, and hardly anyone had come in yet.
But I saw the truth with my own eyes—many items were missing. Yogurt, milk, cheese—whole rows gone.
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It was not just forgetfulness or bad math. Someone was stealing from me.
I always trusted people. That was why I never installed cameras. I believed people were good. I believed they would do the right thing. But now, I had no choice.
The next day, I had cameras installed. It cost me a good bit, but I had to protect my store. The day after that, I sat at the back counter and watched the footage.
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At first, it looked normal. The store was dark and still. But then, a figure appeared. They moved quickly and quietly, taking things off the shelves.
They wore a hood pulled low over their face. I clicked through the video, hoping to see a face, but I never did. Somehow, they stayed hidden.
Still, I knew I had to do something. I put the footage on a flash drive and drove to the police station.
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I walked up to the front desk and told the officer on duty what had happened.
He led me to a small room and plugged in the footage. He watched the screen with a bored look on his face.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “what do you want from us?”
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I stared at him. “What do I want? I want you to do your job. Someone is breaking into my store and stealing my products. I want you to find out who it is.”
He pointed at the screen. “You can’t even see their face. They’re wearing a hood the whole time. We don’t have anything to go on.”
I felt my hands tighten. “But that’s your job!”
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“My advice? Get an alarm system,” the officer said.
I scoffed, grabbed the footage, and walked out of the station. As if! Giving me advice like I was some lost old lady.
But still, I went ahead and had the alarm system installed. I did not want to take any more chances.
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For a few days, things seemed better. Nothing went missing. The shelves stayed full. I started to breathe easier.
Then, one morning, I walked in and froze. Again, shelves were empty. Not everything, but enough to notice. Yet the alarm had not gone off. My stomach turned.
As I stood by the fridge, Mr. Green walked by with a little shake of his head. “Your selection keeps getting smaller and smaller,” he said. “Maybe my wife and I should start going to another store.”
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Those words stung. My heart pounded. I could not lose customers. This store was my life. It paid my bills and kept a roof over my head.
If I could not stop this thief, I could lose everything. If no one would help me, then I would help myself.
That night, I closed the shop like always, turned off the lights, and walked out the front door.
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But I did not go home. I circled around to the back, unlocked the rear door, and slipped inside. I crouched behind the counter and waited.
It was quiet. Too quiet. I almost dozed off, but then I heard it—the door creaked, and the alarm beeped off.
My heart jumped. I peeked up and saw the same figure moving around the aisles.
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Small, quick, quiet. I crept forward. Step by step. Then I lunged and grabbed the hoodie.
“Got you!” I yelled.
The person dropped everything and struggled. I pulled back the hood. He was just a boy. Fourteen, maybe. Thin. Scared. His eyes locked with mine.
He had her eyes.
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“Who are you? Why are you stealing from me?” I asked.
He did not answer. He pulled down the zipper, slipped out of the hoodie, and ran. I tried to follow but could not. I stood there, breathing hard, holding the hoodie in my hands.
Those eyes. I knew them. They belonged to my daughter. How was that possible? Could he be…?
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After I caught the boy red-handed, the thefts stopped completely, but I could not stop thinking about him.
Every time I looked at the shelves or walked through the store, my mind went back to that night. I kept seeing his face, those eyes that reminded me so much of my daughter.
I felt torn. He was just a child, and part of me wanted to go to the police, but the other part needed to know who he was and why he looked so familiar.
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One evening, as I was driving home from work, I saw a figure in a hoodie coming out of a closed store.
My heart skipped a beat. Was it him? I watched as he walked over to a bicycle, took some groceries out of his hoodie, and put them into a backpack.
He kept his hood up the whole time. I stayed in my car and decided to follow him. I knew if I tried to talk to him, he would run again.
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I kept a safe distance as he rode through the streets. After a while, he stopped near a small but tidy house.
He parked his bicycle behind it and went inside. I sat for a moment, holding the same hoodie he had left behind in my store.
My hands were shaking as I got out of the car and walked to the front door. I knocked softly. No one came. I waited. I was about to leave when I heard footsteps approaching.
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Then the door opened.
And there she was—my daughter. I froze. She looked older, tired maybe, but it was her. My heart almost stopped.
She was no longer the girl who had run away from me. She was a grown woman now, standing in the doorway, staring at me in shock.
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“Alice…” I whispered, my voice barely coming out. My hands were still shaking.
She blinked like she was seeing a ghost. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
I looked into her eyes. They were the same, even after all these years. “So you were nearby all this time, and I couldn’t find you.”
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She looked down. “Not the whole time. I moved around a lot. That’s not important now. Why are you here? How did you find me?”
I didn’t answer right away. I reached into my bag and held up the boy’s hoodie.
Her eyes widened. “Where did you get Travis’s hoodie?”
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Before I could speak, the boy—the same one who stole from my store—appeared in the hallway.
“Mom! Close the door!” he shouted, his voice full of fear.
Alice turned to him. “What? What’s going on?”
I stepped forward. “Travis was stealing from my store.”
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“WHAT?!” she shouted. Her face turned red with shock.
“Please don’t call the police,” Travis said, his voice shaking. “I promise I won’t steal from your store again.”
“I know,” I said softly. “But I saw you today. You were stealing from another store.”
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Alice turned to him, her voice sharp. “Travis, what is this? Why would you steal?”
He looked down at the floor. “Because you work so much. We never have enough money. I wanted to help.”
“So you thought stealing was the answer?” she shouted.
“I sold the stuff. I gave you the money in secret. I thought I was helping,” he said.
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Alice covered her face with her hands. “That is not how we solve problems. Stealing is wrong, Travis. Always.”
She looked at me. Her voice was quieter now. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll handle it. He won’t do it again. Please don’t turn him in to the police.”
She reached for the door, but I held it.
“That’s it?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you in fifteen years, and you have nothing more to say? Who is Travis? Is he your son?”
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Alice nodded. Tears filled her eyes. “Yes. He’s my son.”
“May I come in?” I asked, almost in a whisper.
She paused. Then she stepped aside and let me in.
She led me to a small kitchen. I sat down and looked around. It was neat but worn.
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“If you were having money problems, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you ask for help?” I asked.
“Because I was ashamed,” she said.
“I searched for you. I waited fifteen years. I didn’t know you even had a child,” I said.
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“I was already pregnant when I left. That was one of the reasons. You told me to stay away from Travis’s father. You were right. He was no good. But I didn’t listen. He left me soon after,” Alice said.
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
“Because I was ashamed. I thought you hated me.”
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“Oh, Alice,” I said, standing and walking to her. “You’re my daughter. How could I ever hate you?”
I gently wrapped my arms around her, and she held me just as tight. We both cried without saying a word.
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All the pain from the past seemed to melt in that moment. It felt like coming home after being lost for years.
After we calmed down, Alice turned to Travis and scolded him firmly. She made it clear that stealing was never the answer. He nodded, ashamed.
Still, I looked at him with something close to gratitude. I kept thanking him in my heart. If he had not taken from me, I would never have found my family again.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Feeling unappreciated and exhausted, I decided to take a break from my marriage and clear my head. But when my car broke down miles from home, I found myself stranded at a small motel. What started as a simple getaway soon led to an unexpected reunion — one that changed everything. Read the full story here.
Rich Orphan Visits His Foster Family 10 Years after Moving Out, Finds Dilapidated House There – Story of the Day
An orphan decided to visit his foster family ten years after moving out in order to thank them for all they’ve done for him. When he arrived in front of their dilapidated house, he asked what happened and how it ended up that way.
Chuck looked around the room with a smile on his face, savoring the moments he had with his foster family. He had just turned 18 and was now ready to go to college.
He watched how his foster mom sang him a happy birthday as she clapped her hands, and how his dad had an arm on his mom’s shoulder as he sang along. Then he looked at his foster brother, Ivan, who looked bored out of his wits with his head on the table, refusing to sing along.
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Chuck loved his family dearly because they never treated him as an outcast. Although he and Ivan did not get along, he knew that his parents loved him because they spent their own money raising him.
“I will miss you guys so much. Thank you for this birthday celebration,” he told them before blowing out the candles on his cake.
“We will miss you too, son. I hope you come back and visit us once you’re done with university,” his foster dad Chase told him.
Chuck blew out his candles and made a wish. They enjoyed one last meal together before he was off to college.
“Oh, sweetheart,” his mom sighed. “I can still remember the day we got you and took you home. I can’t believe you’re all grown up and going to college,” she said, tears forming in her eyes.
“I know, mom. I am the luckiest boy. I am so thankful that you took me in. Without you, I am nothing,” Chuck said, holding his mom’s hand. “Thank you for all the love and care you gave me.”
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At this point, Ivan had enough. “Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes. “Can we just eat in silence? Your sentimentality is making me sick!”
Instead of fighting back, Chuck smiled. “I know you’ll enjoy not having me around anymore, Ivan, but I’ll miss you too.”
That night, Chuck couldn’t sleep in excitement. His bags were all packed and he was ready to take the bus to the university the following day.
“It’s time to go, honey,” his mom called out to him the next morning.
Chuck looked around his room one last time, knowing it was the last time he would be seeing it in a long time. He embraced his parents one last time before heading out the door.
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“I’m on my own now,” he said. “You gave me all I needed, and I’m sorry if I was an added burden to you because of that. I promise I’ll do my best to become a successful person. I will come back and repay you for all you’ve done!”
It was Chuck’s personal decision to leave the foster care system once he was able. Although he loved his parents dearly, he chose not to get adopted legally to save his parents the money it would cost. After all, knowing they loved him was more than enough for him.
Chuck really did his best in school, keeping his promise. He studied law and was motivated to become a good lawyer after he graduated.
After passing the bar, he started working for a top law firm. From being just an associate, he rose up the ranks until he became a partner in the firm. Ultimately, he lost touch with his parents. While they wrote to each other in the beginning, his work made it less possible, until their communication stopped entirely.
It had been ten years since he last saw his foster parents. Chuck had a client in the city where he grew up, so he decided to drop in on his old home. He realized it was about time he visited his foster parents, so he took a day off to spend time with them. But what greeted him there was totally unexpected.
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Apart from an unkempt lawn, you could hardly see the white paint on the walls which had been entirely covered in vines. As he walked towards the front door, he even wondered if anyone still lived there.
Chuck rang the doorbell, but it was no longer working. He was about to turn back thinking no one lived there anymore until he heard a voice from inside. He decided to knock.
After a couple of seconds, his foster dad opened the door. “Chuck?” he called out. “Is that you?”
“Dad,” he said, embracing him tightly. “What happened here?! Are you alright? Where’s mom and Ivan?” he asked. He had so many questions running through his head, and he wanted answers.
“Come in, son. I can’t believe you made it home. How long has it been? 10 years?” he said, bringing his adoptive son inside the house. “Honey, it’s Chuck! Chuck is home!” he called out to his wife.
As soon as his mom came out of the kitchen, Chuck’s heart sank. She was no longer the healthy woman he once knew. She looked frail as if she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. “Mom!” he cried out. “What happened?”
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“Ivan told us he was starting a business about five years ago. We were so happy because even though he didn’t want to go to college, we thought he had found a direction in life. It turns out, he just wanted us to give him money so he could do whatever he wanted,” his dad shared.
“He promised he would give us a share of his earnings, but that never happened. Because of him, we’re in debt,” his mom added with tears in her eyes. “We didn’t think we would ever see you again, sweetheart. I am so glad you visited,” she said, embracing Chuck again.
Chuck could not believe what his parents had gone through at the hands of his brother. He took them out to dinner, and when they got home, promised to be back the following day.
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The next day, he returned and told them that they had nothing to worry about anymore. “I paid off the loan and any legal damages it incurred. I also hired someone to repair the house. I would also like to give you this,” he said, handing them a passbook.
“Chuck!” his mom cried. “You didn’t have to do any of this. It’s too much. We didn’t raise you thinking you’d ever pay us back,” she told him.
“I never saw you and Ivan differently,” his dad added. “To me, you were both my sons. But now, I can’t believe that it’s you who genuinely loves and cares for us. And Ivan left us for dead.”
Chuck shook his head. “I owe you both so much more than just money,” he replied. “You gave me a home – a family. Money is nothing to me. Family is everything! I love you both and will take care of you for the rest of my life,” he promised.
What can we learn from this story?
- Never forget those who helped you. Chuck never forgot his foster parents, who did so much to raise him. He lived comfortably because of them and wanted to give back to them as much as he could.
- Family matters over everything. Ivan betrayed his parents over money, valuing material possessions over familial relationships. Meanwhile, Chuck always cherished family over everything else, so he was more than willing to cut his fortune in half if it meant his parents living comfortably.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a single mom of three who adopted twins abandoned in a park, only for their birth mother to show up on their 18th birthday.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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