Madison and Jessica turned to a life of robbery after escaping their abusive stepdad. One fateful burglary at an unknown older lady’s mansion leads them down an unexpected path when they stumble upon a photo linked to their past.
“One last signature there,” the attorney said, smiling when the 25-year-old twins Madison and Jessica followed his lead. “There! It’s all yours!”
Once the lawyer left, Jessica’s gaze lingered on the towering ceilings and ornate décor of the Victorian-style mansion nestled in the outskirts of the quiet town.
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“Can you believe it, Maddy!?” she exclaimed, feeling excitement swishing through her veins. “We own this now! It’s OURS!
Jessica rejoiced, not realizing that her sister hadn’t said a word and was instead quietly crying.
“Maddy, what’s wrong?” Jessica asked, confused.
“Jess, this mansion, the way we got it…It still feels like a dream,” Madison said, breathless and disbelieving. She closed her eyes and thought about the lower point in their life 16 years ago. They were nine and had only $3 in their pockets after fleeing their stepfather.
In the fall of 2002, the twins lived with their stepfather, Martin, after their mother died in a car accident 1999. While he always had trouble drinking, his wife’s death worsened things. He took his frustrations out on them and couldn’t hold down a job.
Madison and Jessica tried to be good, despite how often he reminded them they were a burden. But after years of this mistreatment, Martin got home drunk one night, expecting food on the table.
“We’re really sorry, sir,” Madison said softly, her head lowered in fright. “We had a lot of homework to do today. Dinner will be ready in just 20 minutes. Please forgive us for being late.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Jessica agreed.
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Still, Martin didn’t like their answer. He grabbed their notebooks and bags, hurling them around the living room carelessly.
“I don’t care about your school. Do you understand, you lazy little rats?” Martin yelled, terrifying them. “If I have to raise you, you’ll have to work around here! If this happens again, you’ll be out on the streets!”
The girls looked at each other, and although this wasn’t the first time he had threatened to kick them out, his words still caused intense terror.
Madison began to cry while Jessica tried to stop the tears, uttering, “Yes, sir.”
Martin grinned, his rage dissipating now that he knew they were afraid. He grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat in front of the TV while dialing to order some pizza. Of course, he wouldn’t share that with them.
Madison ran to their room, and Jessica followed closely. “What are we doing to do?” she asked her crying sister. “We can’t live with that ogre anymore.”
Her twin wiped her tears away. “Where would we go?”
“I know, but he doesn’t even feed us. He hates us,” Jessica continued. “Wouldn’t it be better to just leave? Run away?”
“Run where?” Madison asked, looking around.
“Anywhere. Somewhere better than here,” her sister added, shrugging.
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“OK,” Madison said, nodding. They quieted and stared into each other eyes for a long time. Then, they hugged tightly and began to pack. They checked the few pennies and dimes they’d managed to steal here and there, but it was only three dollars between them.
When they were ready, they exited their room slowly, checking that Martin was fast asleep. His pizza box was only half empty, and his beer can was still in his hand.
Jessica stopped Madison for a second. “Wait, I can’t leave until I do something,” Jessica said, put her things down, and ran to her stepfather’s room.
“What are you doing?” Madison whispered-yelled, panicking. But Jessica was back quickly with a bottle. She tiptoed to Martin’s and poured a powder on his open beer can. Luckily, he was snoring loudly.
Jessica threw the bottle on the floor, grabbed her things, and ushered Madison out.
“What was that?” her sister asked.
“Laxative,” she answered, grinning slightly.
Madison almost burst out laughing loudly but covered her mouth, and they left, never to see their horrible stepfather again.
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For the next 15 years, the girls traveled all over the country, surviving by stealing and begging where they could. Eventually, they raised enough money to buy a cheap minivan.
They had to leave towns quickly and change their appearances after stealing. It was a complicated life, but it worked for them. Jessica was the most daring, while Madison was usually more reserved and scared when stealing.
While traveling through Boston, they suddenly encountered a neighbor with a large, beautiful mansion.
“Look at that house, Maddy. I bet we could grab just one box of jewelry and be set for the rest of the year,” Jessica pointed out, stopping the car only a few paces away.
“I don’t know, Jess. Those wrought-iron fences are heavy-duty. It’ll be tough to climb. Plus, these places probably have alarm systems and stuff, right?” Madison shook her head but stared at the state with wonder.
“Well, I’m going,” Jessica insisted, removing her seat belt and climbing out of the driving seat. Madison followed, trying to talk her out of it.
As predicted, the fence was hard to climb, but there was no alarm, at least. Jessica was an expert in picking locks, but she knew rich folks always left their doors open. “Bingo,” she whispered, rolling a side door open.
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The twins entered a dressing room and ransacked as quickly as possible, finding jewelry and designer bags galore.
When they were ready to leave, Madison lifted her heavy bag and accidentally knocked a vase.
“Oops!” she whispered, looking at her sister with panicked eyes.
“We have to go,” Jessica said calmly. “Let’s pray she didn’t hear this.”
“Who’s there?” they suddenly heard as lights turned on. An old woman in her nightgown stood in the doorway. “Who are you?”
The twins stared at each other, wondering what to do next.
“Oh, no. Please don’t take that,” the lady continued, her eyes on the box Jessica had in her hands because it didn’t fit in her bag. Her eyes teared up quickly. “Take anything else but that, and I won’t call the police.”
The twins were flustered, but Jessica would not leave that box now that the old woman basically confirmed it was valuable. “MADDY, RUN!” she yelled, rushing to the old woman at the door and pushing her to the side.
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“Please, those jewels are worth more than money!” the old woman wailed after catching herself from falling.
Madison only hesitated a second before following her sister. They rushed down, exiting through the sliding door and not looking back until they were securely in their van. Madison looked up at the mansion and saw the old woman staring through the window.
“We did a terrible thing, Jess,” Madison lamented. “She said they’re worth more than money.”
“Yeah, that means what’s in this box is more valuable than everything else. This is how we survive,” Jessica snapped, driving on.
They were too tired to get away from Boston that night, so they stopped at an empty rest stop, and Jessica fell asleep quickly. Madison couldn’t stay still, so instead, she grabbed the box and returned to the old woman’s house.
Instead of breaking in again, Madison rang her doorbell. The old woman’s eyes widened when she saw her without a mask and holding the jewelry box in her hand.
“I’m sorry for what we did earlier,” Madison spoke in a soft voice laced with guilt and sympathy. “My sister and I were in a tough spot. Please, forgive us. Don’t call the police.”
The old woman stared at her sweetly, holding back tears, and asked Madison inside. She asked the younger woman to call her Mrs. George, and they began to talk. After a while, Madison looked at the pictures on her mantelpiece, noting many people.
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But one frame caught her eye.
“Wh—who is this?” Madison stuttered, her eyes brimming with tears. The old lady’s eyes followed Madison’s gaze at the photo, and she was puzzled about what had suddenly made the young woman cry.
“Well, that’s…that’s my late daughter, Amber,” Mrs. George replied softly, her glass becoming foggy due to the warm tears in her eyes. “she was a beauty, wasn’t she? But why do you cry?”
Madison’s heart skipped a beat as she stared intently at the photo and then back at Mrs. George.
“What? Your daughter? It can’t be…Th—that’s my MOM!”
The living room fell silent as the two women exchanged a puzzled glance, their eyes filled with emotion. “Your mother?!” the grandmother whispered as her face was drained of blood.
“Oh, my God! This is unbelievable! Honey, I’m your grandmother!” Mrs. George gasped as she pulled Madison into a tight embrace, realizing they were connected in a way they could have never imagined.
“Wh—How can this be? I never knew we had a grandmother!” Madison exclaimed in shock. “I’ll go bring my sister. She needs to know too!”
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Madison bolted to the minivan and told Jessica everything.
“What! And she’s our grandma? OMG…how’s that possible? How come we didn’t know about her all these years?” Jessica was stunned when her sister revealed the encounter back in the grandmother’s estate.
“Yeah, Jess! It’s unbelievable. The woman we just robbed is our GRANDMOTHER! Let’s go and find out further.”
They talked to the old woman, apologizing for stealing from her. Mrs. George apologized, too, because she never knew of their existence.
“My daughter and I had several problems. She was boy-crazy and didn’t pick the right men. She cut me off eventually, and I didn’t even know where she moved to. I thought it was best to let her come to me later,” their grandmother explained.
They talked more, and the old woman told them to stay in her house. They took a DNA test a few days later to confirm, and Mrs. George promised they would never have to steal again.
Nine months later, Mrs. George passed, and Madison and Jessica inherited her house and the entire estate, although it took a few months before they finalized everything.
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“If we had known about her before, we could’ve lived this life all along,” Madison cried, and Jessica ran to her arms.
“Instead, we burglarized our grandmother’s house,” Jessica cried and laughed, tightening her embrace.
“Breaking into this house was the best thing we ever did,” Madison said. “So, thank you. For being our brave and stupid Robin Hood.”
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about twins who found a baby abandoned on a stroller and discovered her $3 million legacy later.
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.
I Fell for My Daughter-in-Law’s Grumpy Neighbor, but Thanksgiving Exposed the Awful Truth About Our Relationship – Story of the Day
Living with my son and his unbearable wife was far from the peaceful arrangement I had imagined. But when the grumpy neighbor next door unexpectedly asked me to dinner, everything began to change. Little did I know, a secret plan was unfolding — one that would turn my life upside down.
I had been living with my son Andrew and his ever-resentful wife, Kate, for two weeks. It wasn’t an arrangement either of them had ever wanted, but my accidental, slightly exaggerated leg injury had finally forced Kate’s reluctant consent.
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She opposed it, of course—she had for years—but this time, she had no choice.
Stepping out onto the porch that morning, I spotted her in the yard, raking leaves. Watching her from a distance, I sighed. The poor girl hadn’t the faintest idea what she was doing.
“Kate, you’re doing it all wrong!” I called, raising my voice. She didn’t even look up.
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I assumed she hadn’t heard, so I moved closer, wincing for effect. “I’m telling you, you’re raking them the wrong way. Start with small piles, then combine them into one big heap. Dragging them across the yard is a waste of time.”
She stopped abruptly, leaning on the rake, and turned to face me. Her face betrayed the exhaustion of carrying a child and hosting an unwanted guest.
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“I thought your leg hurt,” she said flatly, her gaze drifting to my suspiciously steady walk. “Maybe it’s time for you to go home?”
The nerve of her! Clutching my leg for emphasis, I replied indignantly, “I was trying to help you, despite the pain, and this is how you thank me?”
Kate rested a hand on her belly, the protective gesture unmistakable. “I’m seven months pregnant. Helping would mean actually doing something useful,” she said, her voice sharper than the autumn air.
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Rude, I thought, but I forced a tight smile. She wasn’t worth the argument.
Across the fence, Mr. Davis, their grouchy neighbor, shuffled into view, his perpetual scowl in place.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Davis!” I chirped, trying to soften his hard expression. He grumbled something under his breath and disappeared into his house without so much as a nod. Just like Kate—miserable and unsociable.
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Back inside, I noticed dust on the furniture again. Kate was on maternity leave—surely, she could spare time to clean. Andrew deserved a better-kept home after all his hard work.
Later, Kate returned to the house and started preparing dinner. Naturally, I offered her a few helpful tips, but my advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Eventually, she turned and said coldly, “Please, just leave the kitchen.”
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That evening, as Andrew came through the door, I heard her complaining to him. Leaning close to the wall, I caught snippets of their conversation.
“We discussed this,” Andrew said, his tone measured. “It’ll benefit everyone.”
“I know,” Kate replied with a weary sigh. “I’m already trying, but it’s harder than you think.”
When I peeked around the corner, I saw Andrew embracing her, his arms wrapped protectively around her growing belly. He comforted her as if she were the victim here!
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At dinner, I couldn’t resist pointing out that her pie was undercooked.
“I have an idea,” Kate said suddenly, her tone too cheerful to be genuine. “Why don’t you bake a pie yourself and bring it to Mr. Davis?”
I frowned. “That grump? He doesn’t even greet me,” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at her.
“I think you’re mistaken. He’s not so bad—just shy,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
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I laughed, the sound hollow. “If that’s true, he’s the one who should make the first move. A man should court a lady.”
Kate sighed, her gaze shifting to Andrew, who squeezed her hand as if sharing a secret.
The next morning, the last thing I expected was to see Mr. Davis approaching the yard.
“Margaret,” he began stiffly, his posture as awkward as his tone. “Would you… well… have dinner with me?”
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“For you, it’s Miss Miller,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
His lips twitched in frustration. “Alright, Miss Miller,” he corrected himself. “Would you allow me to invite you to dinner?”
“I allow it,” I said, crossing my arms. He nodded curtly and turned to leave.
“Is that how you invite someone?” I called after him, watching him freeze mid-step. “When? Where?”
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“Tonight at seven. My house,” he said without turning back.
The rest of the day was a flurry of preparation. By seven sharp, I stood at his door, my heart unexpectedly fluttering. When he opened the door, his expression was as grim as ever.
Inside, he gestured for me to sit at the table. Not even a pulled-out chair—some gentleman.
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During dinner, the conversation was stilted until I mentioned my love for jazz. His face transformed, his usual gloom replaced by a boyish enthusiasm.
“I’d play my favorite record for you,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’d even invite you to dance, but my record player’s broken.”
“You don’t need music to dance,” I said, surprising myself.
To my astonishment, he rose and extended his hand. As we swayed in the dim light, he hummed a familiar tune, one I hadn’t heard in years. Something inside me softened, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t feel alone.
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Afterward, I turned to him. “Mr. Davis, it’s getting late. I should go home.”
He nodded silently, his usual reserved demeanor returning, and walked me to the door.
Before I stepped outside, he hesitated. “You can call me Peter,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
“And you can call me Margaret,” I replied, smiling.
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Then, to my astonishment, he leaned in. For a moment, I froze, uncertain, but when his lips brushed mine, I realized I didn’t want to pull away.
The kiss was gentle and hesitant, but it stirred something I hadn’t felt in years.
As he pulled back, he searched my face for a reaction. I simply smiled, my heart lighter than it had been in ages.
“Good night, Peter,” I said softly, stepping outside. The cool night air met my flushed cheeks, but the smile stayed on my face all the way home—and long after.
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Peter became an irreplaceable part of my days. We spent hours together, laughing over neighborhood gossip, reading books from his vast collection, and trying our hands at new recipes.
While I cooked, he’d hum my favorite songs, filling the house with warmth.
I found a joy I hadn’t known in years, a quiet contentment that made everything else fade.
Kate’s sharp remarks no longer bothered me; my world revolved around Peter.
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On Thanksgiving, I invited him to dinner so he wouldn’t spend the day alone. I noticed him slipping into the kitchen to speak with Kate. Curious, I followed.
“Kate, I wanted to talk to you about the record player,” Peter said, his voice hesitant but firm.
“Mr. Davis, I’ve already ordered it. It’ll arrive soon. You have no idea how grateful I am,” Kate replied with a hint of relief. “You’ve made my life so much easier. I don’t know how you put up with her, but soon the record player will be yours. Thank you for agreeing to this whole charade.”
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The words hit me like a slap. A record player? Putting up with me? A charade? The realization burned through me as anger surged.
“So, this was all a game?!” I burst into the kitchen, my voice trembling with fury.
Kate froze, her face pale. “Oh…” was all she managed.
“Care to explain?!” I shouted, my gaze darting between her and Peter.
Andrew rushed in, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s going on?”
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“Your wife concocted some scheme against me!” I exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Kate.
Andrew sighed deeply. It was as if he was bracing himself for a storm. “Mom, it wasn’t just her. It was my idea too. We thought you and Mr. Davis might make each other happy. Neither of you would have made the first move, so we gave him a little… encouragement.”
“Encouragement?” I repeated, my voice rising.
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“We offered him a record player,” Andrew admitted, his tone measured but guilty. “In exchange for going on dates with you.”
“Andrew, why?” Kate whispered.
“At least my son is honest with me!” I snapped, crossing my arms.
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“Your son was also at his wit’s end with you!” Kate shot back, her voice tinged with frustration. “You were constantly interfering in our lives, nitpicking every little thing I did. And I’m pregnant with your grandchild—I couldn’t handle the stress! So yes, we came up with this plan, and it worked perfectly. You finally had something to do, and I got a break!”
Her words hung in the air, stinging more than I cared to admit. I shook my head, disbelief coursing through me. “You know what, Peter? I could have expected this from her. But not from you.”
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“Margaret, I can explain…” Peter began, stepping toward me.
But I was too angry to listen. I stormed out of the house, my old leg injury reminding me of its presence with every step.
“Margaret!” Peter called after me. “Margaret, wait!”
Spinning around, I glared at him. “What?! What could you possibly say? I’m too old for these games!”
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He stopped, his face clouded with regret. “I told Kate I didn’t need her record player! That I just wanted to be with you!” he shouted, his voice raw with emotion.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you agreed to it at first,” I retorted, my voice trembling.
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“Because you were awful!” Peter snapped, then softened. “Or at least, that’s what I thought. I heard how you constantly picked on Kate, always telling her what to do. But the truth is, I wasn’t any better—grumpy, closed off, and bitter. You changed me, Margaret. You made me feel alive again. You reminded me how to find joy in the little things.”
I hesitated, his words piercing through my anger. “Why should I believe you?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
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Peter stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Because I’ve fallen for you, Margaret. For the meticulous, bossy, always-right woman who also cares so deeply, who cooks meals that feel like home, and who knows all my favorite songs by heart. I love you—all of you.”
Tears welled in my eyes, his confession shaking me to my core. The truth was undeniable—I had fallen for him too. No matter how furious I was, my feelings wouldn’t let me walk away.
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He reached out, gently brushing a tear from my cheek. “I’m sorry for hurting you. Please, give me a second chance.”
I nodded slowly, letting the tension ease. “Alright,” I said, my voice softening. “But you’re keeping that record player from Kate. We’ll need it for our music.” Peter laughed, relief and joy washing over his face.
From that Thanksgiving on, Peter and I were inseparable. Each year, we celebrated the holiday with music playing on that record player, our love growing stronger with every tune.
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Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: While navigating a difficult divorce, Ellis meets a bold young man at a bar who offers to transform her life. His charm and confidence seem like the perfect distraction, but their connection soon leads to unexpected revelations that force Ellis to confront her past — and her family — in ways she never anticipated.
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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