Walter returns home from work to find his baby son crying. His wife has tried everything to quiet their son, but nothing works. Walter decides to check the crib and is shocked by what he finds there.
An ear-splitting wail echoed through the house as Walter entered from the garage. His wife, Abby, sat in the kitchen, and by the distressed look on her face, he knew Logan’s cries were bothering her again.
“Oh, honey,” he says and hugs her from behind. “How long has he been crying like that?”
“I’ve tried everything, Walter!” Abby broke down into sobs. “He’s been fed, changed, bathed, and burped! I even took his temperature! I don’t know what to do now. He keeps crying!”
After becoming parents a month ago, everything in the couple’s lives changed. And if there was something that really distressed Walter, it was Logan’s cries.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Come, we’ll figure this out together,” Walter said and took Abby to Logan’s room.
He cheerfully approached Logan’s crib. But all he saw in the crib was a dictaphone and a note. Walter pressed the stop button on the dictaphone, and Logan’s cries stopped.
“What did you do?” Abby called from behind. Walter wasn’t listening. He held the note and zoned out. It wasn’t until Abby snatched the note from his hand and opened it that he realized what had occurred.
“I warned you that you’d regret being rude to me.
If you want to see your baby again, leave $200,000 in the luggage storage lockers near the pier.
If you go to the police, you’ll never see him again.”
“Oh my God!” Abby gasped. “What does it mean? Was I rude to someone? Were you? Who would kidnap Logan?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter recalled the janitor he’d mistreated at the maternity hospital. He was bringing a cute bear-shaped pot for Abby while she was admitted to the hospital, but the pot broke when he tripped over the janitor’s broom.
Furious, Walter called the man awful names, and the janitor said, “You’ll regret it!”
“We’ll have to go to the police, honey,” Walter said, snapping out of his thoughts. “It must be him!”
“What? The note says we’ll never see Logan again if we go to the police, Walter. We should just pay the ransom!”
“We don’t know if he’ll return Logan if we do that. Think about it, honey. This guy is a janitor… there’s no way he’d know if we went to the police, and since we know where he works, they might be able to go straight to the maternity hospital, arrest him, and bring Logan home to us.”
Abby agreed.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter parked their car outside the station. He and Abby were about to exit the vehicle when Walter’s phone buzzed with a message.
“This is your first and last warning. If you enter that police station, your kid’s going into the bay. Get the money to the location mentioned below.”
Abby gasped as she read the message, and Walter looked around, trying to spot the kidnapper. But there were too many people. The only way to rescue Logan now was to pay the ransom.
Walter decided to drive to the bank right away, but Abby’s condition deteriorated. She threw up once and was about to throw up for a second time. It was better to drive her home, Walter decided.
“Don’t hate me for it, honey, but that’s the best for you,” he said. And Abby didn’t protest.
“Fine…But Walter…does that kidnapper even know about caring for a newborn?” she asked and broke down into tears.
Walter said nothing and drove her home. But his imagination wasn’t immune to dark thoughts. He kept imagining Logan in a dark room, crying for help that never came.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Somehow pulling himself together, Walter drove to the bank. Then he visited the storage locker mentioned by the kidnapper and placed the money inside it.
There were too many people around for him to spot the janitor, but Walter knew he would be somewhere nearby, watching him. So Walter returned to his car, drove a short distance, and parked around the lockers again. It wasn’t long before he spotted the janitor from the maternity hospital.
The janitor opened the locker. Walter sat up straighter, but then a tourist group walked past, hiding the janitor from view.
“Move it!” Walter snapped.
Painful minutes stretched out as the tourists headed toward one of the statues. After the last few people in the group eventually passed the lockers, Walter swore. The janitor had disappeared.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter barely dared to breathe as he scanned the crowd. The man had been wearing the sort of flashy shirt sold in the more eclectic, hippie-themed stores, so he shouldn’t have been hard to spot.
There! A wave of relief washed over him as Walter spotted the janitor crossing the road. He was carrying the bag of money Walter had placed in the locker. Walter leaped from his car and followed him.
The man led him around a parking lot, past a variety of restaurants and several museums before he turned into a bus station. They were heading toward another row of lockers.
The janitor placed the bag inside a locker. When he turned around, Walter was ready. He shoved the janitor up against the lockers and held him there with his forearm.
“Where is my son?” Walter demanded. “I’ve done everything you asked, you jerk; now return Logan to me!”
“Look, I was offered $100 to collect the package and then drop it off here,” the man said. “I don’t know about your son!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Don’t you dare lie!”
“I’m not! Some guy paid me to deliver the package! I ran into him in the parking lot after work one day, but he was standing with the light behind him, so I didn’t see his face. I have two kids of my own. I’d never hurt someone else’s child.”
Something about the janitor’s eyes told Walter the older man wasn’t lying. He let the man go, then opened the locker. But it was empty. Somebody had cut a hole in the back.
Walter jogged around to the back of the lockers. The hole was covered from the back with a thin steel plate, loosely secured by two screws. Nobody around was carrying a bag like the one he’d placed the money into.
Walter didn’t know how to break the news to Abby. Logan was their miracle baby. They’d been struggling for years before they conceived him. And now, he had lost his only chance to get Logan back.
Walter entered his home. He checked all the rooms downstairs but didn’t find Abby anywhere. He went upstairs to check their bedroom and noticed Abby’s things were gone.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
At first, Walter suspected she was kidnapped. He called her. Countless times. But she never answered. Then it dawned on him that the kidnapper wouldn’t have taken all of Abby’s things. Even her hand lotion was missing.
Walter was crushed, to say the least. How could Abby do this to them? No wonder she’d been so eager to return home after feeling sick. She had also insisted they pay the ransom. Abby was Logan’s kidnapper. Did she have an accomplice?
The only thing that consoled Walter’s heart was that the ransom money was fake. He would find a way to get his son back.
Walter drove to the maternity hospital where Logan was born, and near the vending machine, he found the man he was looking for—a doctor.
“Hi,” Walter approached him. “I hope you can help me. I need someone to call my wife—”
“I’m not a phone service,” the doctor replied sharply.
“You don’t understand. I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your assistance, doctor, and your silence.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The doctor studied Walter through narrowed eyes. He slowly smiled as Walter explained his situation and told him what he wanted the doctor to tell Abby.
Walter then retrieved his wallet and furtively showed the doctor the dollar bills inside it. The man nodded. “Okay, we have a deal. Come with me!”
Walter followed the doctor to a nurse’s station on the second floor. All the nurses were checking on their patients, judging by the activity in the hallways. Nobody took much notice as the doctor lifted the phone and dialed Abby’s number.
“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor; this is Dr. Jones from the maternity hospital. I’m calling to inform you that we just discovered something very serious in one of the routine tests we performed on your son after he was born. He needs to come in for treatment immediately.”
Walter heard Abby’s emotional outcry from the other side of the nurse’s station but couldn’t make out her exact words.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss the details over the phone. All I can say for now is that he has a rare genetic condition. I’m sure he does seem fine now, but that could change at any moment. He’s at a higher risk for SIDS and several other life-threatening conditions. You really need to bring him in today, Mrs. Taylor.”
Dr. Jones ended the call a few minutes later and showed Walter a thumbs-up.
“She’s going to bring the baby in ASAP.” Dr. Jones held out his hand and wriggled his fingers. “I did my bit. Now it’s time for you to pay up.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter paid the doctor and went back downstairs. He wandered around for a few minutes before his phone started ringing. His lip curled in disgust when he checked the caller ID.
“You have some nerve to phone me after what you did, Abby,” Walter said. “Where’s Logan? I demand you bring him back.”
“Says the man who doesn’t even care enough about him to pay the ransom!” Abby shrieked. “That money was all fake, you tight-fisted jerk. Logan needs to see a doctor urgently, and I can’t take him because of you. Where’s the real money, Walter?”
“In my account, where it’s been all along. What’s wrong with Logan, or is this just another scheme to get my money?”
Abby swore at him and began to cry. “I told you; he’s sick! You’ve got to send me the money so he can receive treatment. He’ll die without it.”
“I won’t let my son die! I’ll pay,” Walter replied and hung up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Hearing Abby confirm she was behind Logan’s kidnapping broke his heart all over again. It took a few minutes before he pulled himself together enough to send her an immediate payment via his money transfer app. Now, all he had to do was wait.
***
Tears trailed down Walter’s cheeks when his little brother, James, entered the hospital with Abby. James held Logan against his chest while Abby spoke to the receptionist.
It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion as the police officers and FBI agents came forward and surrounded Abby and James. Walter had informed the cops beforehand.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” an FBI agent called out. “Hand the child over, nice and slowly, and raise your hands.”
“Get away from us!” Abby shrieked as she moved to stand between the FBI agent and Logan. “My son is sick. He needs to see a doctor.”
“No, he isn’t,” Walter called out as he approached the group. “There’s nothing wrong with Logan at all.”
Abby’s gaze locked onto him. Walter watched as the fear and uncertainty in her eyes shifted into red-hot fury. She rushed forward as though to attack him. But the police tackled her. She and James were arrested.
Walter hugged his son, relieved to have him back. But Abby wasn’t done yet.
“You think you’ve won? Logan isn’t even yours! You couldn’t get me pregnant, remember? But whatever’s wrong with you clearly doesn’t run in the family!” she yelled.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter froze. He looked at his brother, who wouldn’t even raise his head to look at him. It pained Walter. But nothing mattered because he had Logan with him.
“I will adopt him if that’s what I have to do!” he shot back. “I will watch him grow up while you two rot behind bars!” he said and left with Logan.
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A Stranger Sat Next to Me While My Dying Husband Was in the Hospital and Told Me to Put a Hidden Camera in His Ward to Uncover a Truth
Diana was painfully preparing herself to say goodbye to her dying husband in the hospital. While she was struggling to process that he had only a few weeks left to live, a stranger approached and whispered the jolting words: “Set up a hidden camera in his ward… you deserve to know the truth.”
I never thought my world would end in a hospital corridor. The doctor’s words echoed through my skull like a death knell: “Stage four cancer… metastasized… he’s got a few weeks to live.”
The diagnosis shattered the future I’d planned with Eric. Fifteen years of marriage reduced to a handful of days. The golden band on my finger felt suddenly heavy, weighted with memories of better times: our first dance, morning coffees shared in comfortable silence, and the way he’d stroke my hair when I was sad.
A heartbroken woman standing in a hospital ward | Source: Midjourney
My stomach churned as I watched other families passing by. Some were crying, some laughing, and some were frozen in that peculiar limbo between hope and despair. I knew I had to get out before I shattered completely.
I stumbled through the automatic doors, the late September air hitting my face like a gentle slap. My legs carried me to a bench near the entrance, where I collapsed more than sat. The evening sun cast long, distorted shadows across the hospital grounds, mirroring the agony in my heart.
That’s when she appeared.
A sad woman sitting in a hospital corridor | Source: Midjourney
She wasn’t remarkable at first glance. Just an ordinary nurse in her late 40s, wearing navy scrubs, with tired eyes that held something.
Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a bun, and her shoes were the sensible kind worn by someone who spent long hours on their feet. She sat beside me without asking, her presence both intrusive and oddly calming.
“Set up a hidden camera in his ward,” she whispered. “He’s not dying.”
The words hit me like ice water. “Excuse me? My husband is dying. The doctors confirmed it. How dare you—”
A nurse sitting on a chair | Source: Midjourney
“Seeing is believing.” She turned to face me fully. “I work nights here. I see things. Things that don’t add up. Trust me on this… you deserve to know the truth.”
Before I could respond, she stood and walked away, disappearing through the hospital doors like a phantom, leaving me with nothing but questions.
That night, I lay awake in the bed, my mind racing. The stranger’s words played on repeat, competing with memories of Eric’s diagnosis day. How he’d gripped my hand as the doctor delivered the news, and how his face had crumpled in despair.
A confused woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
What did she mean by ‘He’s not dying’? The thought seemed impossible, yet that spark of doubt wouldn’t die. By morning, I’d ordered a small camera online with overnight delivery, my hands shaking as I entered my credit card information.
I slipped into his room while Eric was getting his routine scan the next day.
My hands trembled as I positioned the tiny camera among the roses and lilies in the vase on the windowsill. Each movement felt like a betrayal, but something deeper pushed me forward.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing to Eric or myself.
A woman hiding a small camera in a flower vase | Source: Midjourney
An hour later, Eric was back in bed, looking pale and drawn. His hospital gown made him seem smaller somehow, and more vulnerable. “Where were you?” he asked weakly.
“Just getting some coffee,” I lied. “How was the scan?”
He winced as he shifted in bed, the sheets rustling softly. “Exhausting. The pain’s getting worse. I just need to rest.”
I nodded, squeezing his hand. “Of course. I’ll let you sleep.”
A man lying in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
That evening, after making sure Eric was settled for the night, I went home and sat on my bed. The laptop’s blue glow illuminated my face as I accessed the camera feed, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
For hours, nothing happened. Eric slept, nurses came and went, and I began to feel foolish for listening to a stranger.
Then, at 9 p.m., everything changed.
The ward door opened, and a woman entered. She was tall, confident, and wearing a sleek leather coat. Her perfectly styled dark hair caught the light as she approached Eric’s bed, and what happened next made my blood run cold.
Eric, my supposedly “DYING” husband, sat up straight. No struggle. No pain. He seemed happy. The kind of happiness that seemed out of place on the face of a dying man.
A woman in a hospital ward | Source: Midjourney
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, pulling her into an embrace that looked anything but weak. When they kissed, I felt my wedding ring burn against my finger like a painful sting.
My heart shattered as I watched them talk, although the camera didn’t capture the audio, their body language was intimate and familiar.
She handed him some papers, which he carefully tucked under his mattress. They looked like they were planning something big, and I needed to know what.
A smiling man holding documents | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I returned to Eric’s room, my heart heavy with the secret I wasn’t supposed to know. He was back in character — pale, weak, struggling to sit up.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he rasped, reaching for the glass of water with trembling hands. “Bad night. The pain… it’s getting worse.”
I wanted to scream and hold him by the collar for answers. Instead, I smiled, the expression feeling like broken glass on my face. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”
He shook his head, and I watched him perform his role perfectly. How many times had I cried myself to sleep believing this act? How many nights had I prayed for a miracle while he was probably planning something with his secret lover?
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t go home that evening. Hidden in the parking lot, I waited, my phone ready to record the truth. I knew his mistress would visit.
Sure enough, the woman in the leather coat appeared, moving through the hospital with the confidence of someone who belonged there.
This time, I quietly followed her, keeping just close enough to hear.
Their voices drifted through the ward’s partially open door. “Everything’s arranged,” she said, her tone businesslike. “Once you’re declared dead, the insurance money will be transferred offshore. We can start our new life.”
A cheerful woman in a hospital ward | Source: Midjourney
Eric’s response was eager and delighted. “That’s awesome, Victoria. Dr. Matthews came through perfectly. Cost me a fortune to get him to fake the diagnosis, but it was worth it. A few more days of this act, and we’re free. Diana won’t suspect a thing. She’s already planning my funeral.”
“The mourning widow whose husband is very much alive!” Victoria chuckled softly.
“You should have seen her face when she visited me today. So concerned and so loving. It’s almost sad, poor thing!” Eric laughed.
“She was always dumb,” Victoria replied, and I heard the smirk in her voice. “But that’s what made her perfect for this. Once you’re ‘dead,’ she’ll get the insurance payout, and we’ll transfer it all before she knows what hit her. Then it’s just you and me, darling.”
A man laughing | Source: Midjourney
The casual cruelty of their words cut deeper than any sharp blade. Fifteen years of marriage reduced to a con job. Agony filled my eyes, but it wasn’t the time for tears.
It was time for payback.
I recorded everything on my phone, my mind already forming a plan. They wanted to play games? Fine. I could play games too.
The next day, I made calls. Lots of calls. To family, friends, coworkers — anyone who’d ever cared about Eric.
My voice broke at just the right moments as I delivered the news: “His condition has worsened dramatically. The doctors say it’s time to say goodbye. Please come today. He’d want you all here.”
A woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
By evening, Eric’s room was packed. His parents stood by his bed, his mother sobbing quietly into a handkerchief. Colleagues murmured condolences. Friends from college shared memories of better days.
Eric played his part, looking appropriately weak and grateful for the support, though I could see panic beginning to creep into his eyes as more people arrived.
I waited until the room was full before stepping forward. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. “Before we say our final goodbyes,” I announced, my eyes boring into Eric’s, “there’s something you all need to see. My dear husband, bless his ‘dying’ soul, has been keeping a huge secret from all of us…”
Eric’s eyes widened. “Diana, what are you doing?”
A man gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
I connected my laptop to the room’s TV screen. The footage began to play: Eric, very much alive, embracing his mistress, Victoria. Then, the phone recording of their conversation about faking his death, bribing Dr. Matthews, and stealing the insurance money.
The room erupted in chaos.
His mother’s sobs turned to screams of rage. “How could you do this to us? To your wife?”
His father had to be held back by two of Eric’s brothers. Victoria chose that moment to arrive, stopping dead in the doorway as she realized their plan had crumbled to dust.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
The security arrived, followed by police. I watched as they led Eric away in handcuffs, his protests falling on deaf ears. Dr. Matthews was also arrested, and his medical license was suspended pending investigation. Victoria tried to slip away but didn’t make it past the elevator.
I filed for divorce the very next day and returned to that bench outside the hospital, hoping to meet the thoughtful stranger who’d saved me from dealing with the biggest betrayal of my life.
The same woman who’d warned me sat down beside me, this time with a small smile.
A nurse sitting on a chair and smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you,” I said, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of endings and beginnings. “You saved me from a different kind of grief.”
“I overheard them one night during my rounds. Couldn’t let them destroy your life. Sometimes the worst diseases aren’t the ones that kill you. They’re the ones that silently grow in the hearts of those we love, feeding on our trust until there’s nothing left.”
A nurse looking at someone and smiling | Source: Midjourney
I lost my husband, but not to cancer. I lost him to his greed and lies. But in losing him, I found something more valuable: my truth, my strength, and the knowledge that, sometimes, the kindness of strangers can save us from the cruelty of those we love most.
As I drove home that evening, my wedding ring sat in my pocket like a small, heavy reminder of everything I’d lost and everything I’d gained.
The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant oranges and reds, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. Sometimes, the end of one story is just the beginning of another.
A smiling woman in a car | 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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