I Suspected My Kids Were Stealing from Me — yet the Hidden Camera Revealed the Person I Least Expected

The shelter worker stood stiffly by the gate, eyes glued to her clipboard, clearly wishing she could disappear.

“I’ll fix it,” Peter said. “I swear I’ll fix it.”

I believed him.

But believing someone and trusting them again are not the same thing.

On the way back home, I kept thinking about a dog bite from when I was eight.

Our neighbor’s dog had just had puppies, and I lunged too quickly to grab one. The mother snapped at my hand — fast and protective — barely even breaking the skin.

I sobbed like it was something terrifying.

As the years passed, that small memory grew larger in my mind. The dog seemed bigger. The bite felt harsher. The fear lingered far longer than it ever should have.

That’s when it clicked why Peter hadn’t told me. He knew how quickly I stiffened around dogs.

The following morning, he came downstairs before the kids were awake. He brewed coffee, lined up four mugs, and when they drifted in one by one, he asked them to sit.

“I owe you guys an apology,” he said, folding his hands on the table. “All three of you.”

The kitchen fell completely silent.

“I’ve been taking money from your mom’s wallet for the past several weeks,” Peter confessed. “She didn’t know. And when she brought it up at dinner, I let you sit there under suspicion instead of telling the truth. That was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

My daughter stared at him.

“You made Mom think we were thieves.”