Julia Roberts, then 37, gave birth to twins.
The mother of three acknowledged that her children resemble Danny Moder, her spouse.
Fans of Moder frequently praise their children’s photos online, saying they are stunning.
Julia Roberts is pleased with her union with Danny Moder and the joy they have shared. The couple makes an effort to keep their marriage quiet and their children out of the spotlight. Henry Moder, 16, and the twins Phinnaeus and Hazel Moder, 18, are Julia and Danny’s three children.
Julia gave birth to two healthy children, Phinneaus and Hazel, at the age of 37. The twins reportedly arrived at a Los Angeles hospital in November 2004 at around three in the morning. Henry, however, was born on June 18, 2007.
On October 10, 2015, Danny Moder and Julia Roberts attended the Bottega Veneta-sponsored Gala in the Garden in Los Angeles. | Source: Getty Images
When Julia was ready, her children selected her to be their steward and shepherd in life. Julia became a mother in her late 30s.
The mother of three admits that she occasionally worries that she will fail as a parent, but she also feels that her children entered her life at a time when she was prepared to be their mother. The actress made sure to spend quality time, tease, and joke with her little children while they were little.
At the Outerknown premiere event in Malibu, California, on August 29, 2015, Danny Moder, Julia Roberts, Kelly Slater, Phinnaeus, Henry Daniel, and Hazel Moder were there. | Source: Getty Images
She once jokingly disclosed that Henry believed that he and his siblings were being discussed when someone mentioned the twins in their family, rather than just Phinnaeus and Hazel.
In addition to enjoying herself with her children, Julia does her hardest to shield them from the negative effects of celebrity. The kids knew their mother was renowned when they were younger, but they never realized how famous she actually was. When her children were in stores, the actress saw that most of the time they would see headlines from tabloids, which made her uneasy.
Even though the tabloid headlines were untrue, Julia was nevertheless affected, especially when they implied that her marriage was dissolving although she was still happily married and raising her children. Julia and Danny moved from Los Angeles because they wanted to raise their children away from the spotlight as a result of these difficulties.
Although they now live on a ranch in New Mexico, Julia and Danny used to reside in Los Angeles, where they were employed. But according to a pal, the two didn’t want their children to grow up surrounded by Los Angeles’s showbiz lifestyle. Because of their kids, the couple later relocated to San Francisco. Nobody gave a damn about Phinnaeus, Henry, and Hazel’s mother there, and they weren’t treated like Hollywood stars’ children.
The “Ocean’s Eleven” actress said in 2019 that, in an effort to shield her children from the stresses of the current world, she had forbidden them from using social media.
The actress instituted family meetings and set limits on what they watched on TV. She performed these actions because children nowadays can easily handle the world and potentially exploit its resources and demands. Julia feels that it is her responsibility as a parent to keep her children off social media because they are not in need of it right now.
In addition to keeping her children safe, Julia takes sure to show them nothing but the best love so they may overcome the difficulties of the modern world. She also guides her children through today’s challenges.
Mom seized the chance to give Hazel hope while she was going through a difficult period and felt like she didn’t have a voice. She showed Hazel that she could still stand up for her beliefs in this world by taking her to her first Women’s March in Washington.
On July 10, 2021, Danny and Hazel Moder show up for the “Flag Day” premiere at the 74th Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France. | Source: Getty Images
The 56-year-old mother describes her daughter as “one of a kind.” The teenager chose a low-key appearance for her trip to the 74th Cannes Film Festival in 2021 with her father, even rejecting her mother’s advice to apply eyeliner. Hazel was merely delighted to attend the function beside her dad.
On July 10, 2021, Danny and Hazel Moder show up for the “Flag Day” premiere at the 74th Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France. | Source: Getty Images
On July 10, 2021, Danny and Hazel Moder show up for the “Flag Day” premiere at the 74th Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France. | Source: Getty Images
But Hazel also has a soft spot for her mother’s most treasured belongings. According to Julia, her daughter once dug through her closet in search of a prom dress and tried on the actress’s 2001 Academy Award-winning black and white Valentino gown. Although Julia recalls how beautiful her daughter looked in the garment, Hazel thought it was too big on her.
Julia Roberts on March 25, 2001, at the 73rd Annual Academy Awards in Los Angeles, California. | Found via Getty Images
Julia has given her children a lot of love, support, and affection. She claims that mothering is an art that cannot be learned. The actress believes that the best approach to deal with parenting is to accept that you are not a superwoman and that you shouldn’t be afraid to seek for help.
Julia Roberts on March 25, 2001, at the 73rd Annual Academy Awards in Los Angeles, California. | Found via Getty Images
The “Pretty Woman” actress acknowledged in 2022 that she experienced dizziness when her children were ready to start college. In addition, the fact that her kids would be attending college and she had never done so captivated and delighted her about them.
Although Julia always believes that her children look like her, she realizes that her children actually resemble Danny when she sees her spouse after he gets home from work. The father of three occasionally posts pictures of their children online, eliciting a lot of feedback from their followers.
On November 28, 2022, Julia’s twins turned eighteen, and the actress gave them a sweet photo of themselves from their early years. Danny often shares pictures of their three children on social media, and the majority of his postings get good feedback from followers.
When the 54-year-old published a photo of Hazel smiling next to Phinnaeus, fans noted that Julia and Danny had cute children. “They really are stunning,” said an enthusiast. Supporters also mentioned how wonderful the couple’s family is.
Some people remarked on how Danny and Julia’s children bore a striking resemblance to their dad. Hazel “looks like her dad,” as one fan put it, and other fans thought Danny and his daughter looked alike. The majority of people claimed that Danny is preferred by the couple’s three gorgeous children.
January 15, 2020, in Los Angeles, Julia Roberts and Danny Moder’s Tenth Anniversary Gala Benefiting CORE, hosted by Sean Penn | Source: Getty Images
After 21 years of marriage, Julia Roberts and Danny Moder are content in their marriage as they raise their children and shield them from the hardships of the outside world. The couple adores their kids, whom they have made enormous efforts to keep away from the entertainment industry.
I Noticed Something Strange About the Chef at My Friend’s Dinner Party – What I Found in the Oven Left Everyone Stunned
It was a perfect evening with fine wine, soft jazz, and dinner at my best friend’s place. But something about the chef she’d hired felt wrong. He kept stealing nervous glances at the oven, never letting anyone near. When I somehow opened it, what I found inside turned the evening into a nightmare.
The candlelight flickered across crystal glasses, casting soft shadows on the meticulously arranged china. Jazz whispered from hidden speakers, a delicate backdrop to an evening that promised sophistication and celebration. I watched my best friend Clara, radiant in her emerald silk dress, her eyes sparkling with the pride of her recent promotion to law firm partner.
But none of us knew that beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect evening, something sinister was waiting.
A woman holding a glass of wine | Source: Pexels
It was 9:45 p.m. The dinner party hummed with elegant conversation, crystal glasses clinked, and soft jazz played in the background. But there, in the kitchen, something felt different. And wrong.
I’d known Clara for years, and I’d seen countless dinner parties. But this was different.
The private chef she’d hired moved with an intensity that didn’t match the casual celebration. His slightly salt-and-pepper long hair was perfectly combed, his white chef’s coat crisp and immaculate.
But beneath the professional exterior, something else simmered. He was acting quite… strange.
A chef in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
My hand trembled slightly as I held out the wine glass. The chef’s fingers brushed mine. Cold. Unnaturally cold. A shiver ran down my spine.
“More Cabernet?” he asked, his smile not reaching his eyes.
I nodded, unable to look away. When he poured the wine, his hand didn’t shake. Not even a millimeter. He was too perfect. Too controlled. But something felt very, very wrong.
Clara’s distant laughter echoed through the room. The sound seemed to trigger something in the chef. His eyes kept flicking to the oven like a nervous tick. Not just a glance. It was a full-body twitch that screamed something was wrong.
Whenever a guest drifted too close to the kitchen, he’d slide into position like a human blockade and stop them from entering.
An oven | Source: Pexels
Another guest approached for a drink. He bolted to the kitchen and immediately blocked them, muttering a vague excuse I couldn’t hear. Maybe he thought nobody would notice. But I did.
I was watching his every move.
My skin prickled. Something was hidden in that kitchen. Something he didn’t want anyone to see. Every few minutes, his eyes would dart to the oven. Quick. Nervous. A gesture that screamed something was hidden.
“Enjoying the party?” he asked suddenly, turning to me.
I simply nodded, gripping my wine glass harder as my knuckles turned white.
Something was fishy. Not the kind you can explain, but the type that sets your nerves on fire.
An anxious woman | Source: Midjourney
The night was young. And something told me this was just the beginning.
Just then, Clara’s phone buzzed, interrupting the tranquil atmosphere. She excused herself, mumbling something about an urgent work call, and retreated to a quieter corner.
Perfect.
I waited. Counted three heartbeats.
“I’ll just grab more wine,” I muttered to Terry, Clara’s fiancé, who barely acknowledged me, deep in conversation about some corporate merger with another guest.
I casually strolled toward the small bar area near the kitchen as the chef was engrossed in plating appetizers. He didn’t notice as I slipped closer to the kitchen, which seemed to shrink with each step. The oven loomed larger.
He didn’t hear me. Didn’t sense me.
A chef plating a dish | Source: Pexels
My hand reached for the wine bottle. But my eyes? Locked on that industrial-sized oven.
Something was in there. Was he hiding something? But what?
My heart raced. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
The kitchen gleamed like a sterile operating room. Stainless steel surfaces reflected my nervous frame. Everything was too perfect. Too clean. The kind of clean that screams something’s dangerously ominous.
The chef continued arranging the appetizers, unaware I was in the kitchen… his carefully restricted area. I moved slowly. Each step was measured. Deliberate.
The oven called to me. Not with warmth. Not with the promise of a delicious meal. But with a magnetic pull of something forbidden.
A nervous woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
One gentle pull and the door creaked open. The smell hit me first. Not roasted meat. Not herbs. But something acrid. Like something burning.
My breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t a meal.
“OH MY GOD… IT CAN’T BE!” I shrieked, coughing.
Crumpled envelopes smoldered in the oven. Some burned at the edges, others miraculously intact. Clara’s handwriting… those elegant loops and curves I’d seen a thousand times, peeked through the charred papers like ghostly whispers.
And there. Right in the center… was a jewelry box.
The one from her engagement party. The one Terry had presented with such drama and love all those months ago. It was now sitting among burned memories, its edges blackened and singed.
A woman flaunting her engagement ring | Source: Unsplash
My fingers hovered over the papers. One envelope remained, partially burned. Clara’s distinctive cursive script was still visible through the char.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” A voice cut through the kitchen like a surgical blade. Cold. Precise. Loaded with something deeper than mere surprise.
I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Instead, I turned slowly, my heart pounding.
The chef stood there, no longer the charming professional who had been entertaining guests. His eyes now bore the intensity of a predator caught mid-hunt.
“I think the better question is… what are YOU doing?”
A startled woman | Source: Midjourney
Behind me, the oven door hung open like a portal to secrets to something dark. Something that was never meant to be discovered.
The chef’s eyes darted, a sinister calculation racing behind those eyes. One wrong move. One wrong word… and everything would shatter.
“What the hell is going on over here?” I screamed, loud enough for everyone to hear. In an instant, the kitchen transformed into a pressure cooker of tension.
Puzzled guests pressed forward with a growing sense of something terrifyingly unknown.
An extremely startled woman | Source: Midjourney
Terry’s hand trembled violently, as he broke the silence, his finger pointing at the open oven.
“Is that… our engagement ring box?” he gasped.
Clara bolted inside and stood frozen like a statue.
“And those are my personal letters,” she breathed. “My private photographs. Why do YOU have them?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
A laugh escaped the chef’s lips as he took off his apron and hurled it on the floor. But it wasn’t a laugh of humor. It was the sound of something gravely sinister.
“You don’t remember me, do you, Clara?”
The way he said her name. It made everyone’s skin crawl.
Clara’s eyes — those razor-sharp eyes that could dissect complex legal arguments in seconds — now looked fragile. Uncertain. For the first time, she looked small.
“Who are you?” She shrieked, trembling.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
The man took a step forward. Then another. Each step felt like a countdown to something inevitable. Something that had been years in the making.
The guests held their breath as the air grew thick and suffocating. And nobody in that room was prepared for what was coming.
“Why do you have my letters? My photos?! Why did you destroy them?” Clara’s voice shattered the silence.
Timothy, one of the guests, leaned forward. His trembling fingers pulled out a partially burned photograph of Clara and Terry, caught in a moment of pure happiness during their engagement.
“He’s been stealing from you,” he said, the pieces clicking together like a grotesque puzzle. “These letters, these mementos… they’re yours, aren’t they?”
A man pointing a finger | Source: Pexels
Clara nodded. Her fury burned brighter than the smoldering papers in the oven. “Why? What the hell is this about?”
The chef’s laugh was like broken glass. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”
The room held its breath. Tension coiled like a snake ready to strike.
“I’m ADRIAN!” he revealed. “Your ex-boyfriend. The man you discarded. The one you thought was gone.”
Clara staggered back. “No. This can’t be. I heard Adrian died in an accident two years ago.”
“An accident YOU caused!” he roared, years of anger erupting in that single moment.
A terrified woman | Source: Midjourney
His finger pointed at her. Accusatory. Painful. “You left me. Broke me. I couldn’t function. Couldn’t breathe. And then came the crash that almost took my breath away.”
He touched his face. Traced the lines of surgical scars hidden beneath his professional chef’s demeanor.
“Skin grafts,” he whispered. “Surgeries. Numerous procedures. I’m not the man I was. But I’m here. ALIVE. My heart burning with a desire for REVENGE.”
The guests exchanged horrified glances, unable to process what they were hearing.
Terry stepped forward, his eyes boring into Adrian’s. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.
A stunned man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
Adrian’s smile was a knife’s edge. “CLOSURE. Clara moved on so effortlessly… a new job, a new life, a new love. Meanwhile, I’ve been left to rot. So, I decided, if I can’t have happiness, neither can she. Those letters, those photos, that ring… all symbols of her perfect new life. I wanted to burn them, just like she burned our past.”
Clara’s face was etched with pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Adrian, I didn’t cause your accident. Leaving you was the hardest decision of my life. You were… you were unbearable. I had to save myself.”
“Save yourself? And what about me? Did you even consider the consequences of your actions?”
A furious man | Source: Midjourney
“That’s enough,” Terry yelled, his patience wearing thin. “I’m calling the police.”
Soon, sirens wailed in the distance. And the night was far from over.
The red and blue lights painted the elegant dining room in a surreal dance of color. Adrian sat silently in the back of the police car, his eyes never leaving Clara. Not with anger. Not with hatred. But with a chilling intensity that spoke of something deeper. Unresolved. And ominous.
Clara collapsed into the chair, her designer dress pooling around her like a broken dream. The pristine white walls suddenly felt suffocating.
“How?” she whispered. “How did he find me?”
A confused woman | Source: Midjourney
Her hand trembled. I squeezed it, feeling the fragility beneath her usually rock-solid exterior.
Terry stood nearby, protective and still confused, trying to understand how someone from Clara’s past could infiltrate their perfect life so completely.
“He was patient,” I said softly. “Waiting. Planning.”
Clara’s eyes were distant and haunted.
Outside, the police car’s taillights disappeared into the darkness. Taking Adrian. Taking the immediate threat. But something told me that this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Police cars on the street | Source: Unsplash
The dinner party’s elegant setup looked like a crime scene. Champagne glasses. Half-eaten appetizers. Scattered memories. A celebration of Clara’s professional success had become something else entirely. A nightmare served on fine china.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs. What if I hadn’t been curious? What if the oven door had remained closed? What twisted plan might have unfolded? What else had he come for?
Some wounds don’t heal. They wait. Patient. Dangerous. Ready to be reopened.
And some ghosts? They don’t just haunt memories. Sometimes… they cook your dinner, in disguise.
A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
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.
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