Ava unexpectedly falls for the man her parents arranged for her to marry. But when unsettling rumors about him surface days before their wedding, she devises a test to uncover his true intentions.
Ava caught her breath as she gazed at Walter, the man her parents had arranged for her to meet. He rose from his seat, impeccably dressed in a sleek suit that showcased his athletic build, his blue eyes sparkling under the elegant lighting.
Ava’s heart fluttered as he smiled and helped her to her seat.
“Ava, meet Walter, my son,” his mother said.
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“What do you think?” whispered Ava’s mother, Hilda, noticing her daughter’s reddened cheeks.
The families sat at a grand dining table in a restaurant, the air filled with apprehension and anticipation. Ava, initially resistant to this arranged meeting, found herself unexpectedly drawn to Walter. His gentlemanly demeanor throughout the dinner and subsequent meetings only deepened her admiration for him.
So a few weeks later, when he went down on one knee and proposed, she didn’t think twice before saying yes.
“I’ll marry you!” she exclaimed as Walter slid a diamond ring onto her finger.
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The wedding was set, and with only a few weeks to go, Ava and her friend Hillary went to a boutique to pick a wedding dress for Ava’s special day.
They had just gotten there and were waiting to be attended to when they heard two women whispering in the background.
At first, Ava tried not to pay attention, but with how loud they were, it was impossible not to hear a few words, especially when she heard Walter’s name.
“You mean Walter, the blue-eyed playboy, is getting married?” one woman whispered incredulously.
“Apparently, his parents found him a millionaire’s daughter,” another woman added.
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Ava desperately wanted to continue listening but was interrupted when one of the attendants approached her since it was her turn.
“You heard those people talking in the lobby, didn’t you?” Hillary asked as they followed the attendant.
“Do you know how many Walters there are in this state?” Ava replied, dismissing the rumors. She was convinced her Walter was different.
An hour later, Ava drove to Walter’s mansion. The recent rain had left the roads wet, and as she approached his mansion, she noticed a group of homeless people huddled by the roadside, trying to keep dry.
\Ava slowed her car to avoid splashing water on them and rolled down her window to offer them some money, only to be taken aback after hearing their conversation.
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“That rich guy in the red car splashed water on us! All that money has gone to his head! And that money isn’t his, I bet! It’s his parents’!” grumbled a bearded man.
“With his handsome looks, he thinks he can do anything,” a woman added bitterly.
Shocked and confused, Ava rolled up her window and drove into Walter’s estate, wondering if they were discussing him. She had seen his compassionate side, like his charity work, but she now doubted if it was just for show.
\As she entered his house using the spare key she always had, she was stunned to hear him yelling on the phone.
“Get them out of here! I want all of them gone!” he bellowed, his face contorted with anger.
His tone suddenly softened when he turned around and spotted her.
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“I don’t want to see those beggars suffer in this rain. Find them a place, now!” he commanded, hanging up.
“Ava!” He smiled and approached her. “I saw some homeless people in the rain. It broke my heart, so I was arranging shelter for them,” he explained. Ava didn’t know what to say and nodded. Throughout the evening, she acted like everything was fine, but it wasn’t.
Their wedding was in a week, after which Walter was to be appointed as the director of one of her father’s charity organizations.
As Ava reached home, she discussed everything with Hillary and devised a plan to test Walter’s true character.
“Why not hire a private investigator?” Hillary suggested. “Isn’t that easier than hiring an actor? What if it doesn’t work?”
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“It will. People let down their guard easily around strangers, and this particular actor I hired is pretty good,” Ava explained.
The next day, they met at Walter’s favorite café, concealing their faces under big hats.
“Aren’t you worried Walter might get angry if he finds out?” Hillary asked cautiously.
“He won’t know if all goes well,” Ava reassured her, waiting for Walter’s arrival. She’d already texted him and set her plan in motion. Babe, can you get me a coffee from your favorite place? I’ll be waiting at your office, she’d written.Later, she would text him that she couldn’t make it due to some work.
As Walter entered the café, Ava watched him closely. Dressed in a white sweater and black pants, Walter attracted admiring glances as he ordered. Ava’s heart swelled with pride, but she was anxious about the actor she’d hired to test him.
“I hope everything goes well,” she murmured to Hillary.
As Walter waited, a disheveled man, the actor Ava had hired, approached the counter. Walter was disgusted and stepped aside, allowing the man to order first.
“He’s so nice,” Ava whispered, unaware of Walter’s true intentions.
“Yeah, surprising,” Hillary said despite her doubts about Walter’s character.
Walter paid for the man’s bread and coffee, masking his frustration, all because he wanted the smelly, poor man to leave as soon as possible.
The situation escalated when the man accidentally spilled coffee on Walter’s sweater. Walter’s anger flared, but he caught a glimpse of someone familiar in the space and restrained himself.
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“I’m s-sorry, sir,” the man stammered, tears streaming down his face.
Walter, boiling inside, forced a smile. “Ah, no worries! It’s just clothes, nothing more. You can get more food at the counter; I’ll pay,” he offered, leading the man to the counter while vigorously typing on his phone, trying to send a quick message to his friend.
Ava watched from a distance and was proud of Walter’s kindness. “He’s the man I thought he was,” she said to Hillary, who wasn’t entirely convinced.
Soon, Walter stepped outside, walking side by side with the beggar, who walked beside him with a smile. They had just rounded a corner when he grabbed the man’s shirt and whispered harshly in his ears. “Say a word of this to Ava, and you’ll regret it,” he warned, tossing his hot coffee at the man before walking away.
Meanwhile, Ava dropped him the text, thinking she was a fool to doubt him. “See, I told you he’s a nice guy,” she told Hillary.
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Walter scowled as he read her message and drove home. He knew Ava suspected something. In desperation, he called Brandon, his trusted friend, for advice.
Meanwhile, Joe, the actor hired by Ava to test Walter, brushed off his coffee-soaked clothes. Feeling the soreness on his neck from Walter’s grip, he skipped contacting his client and headed home.
At Walter’s house, the atmosphere was tense. “She knows!” Walter yelled.
“Calm down. What does she know exactly?” Brandon inquired, pouring wine for his friend.
Walter explained Ava’s test and his fear of her suspicions.
“Spend more money on those charity galas she likes. There’s barely a week to the wedding, and all you have to do is persevere until then,” Brandon instructed him, and Walter listened with rapt attention.
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That night, after Ava got home, she spent hours talking to Walter on the phone, convinced that he was the only person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
“I love you, too,” she whispered into the phone after saying her goodbyes before hanging up.
Two days before the wedding, Ava went alone to pick up her dress. Unexpectedly, a woman blocked her path. “You’re Ava, right? The one marrying Walter?” the woman asked bluntly.
“Yes, I am. I love him,” Ava replied, assuming the woman was one of Walter’s exes.
“Don’t marry him. He’s not who you think he is,” the woman warned gravely before leaving.
Ava went after her, but the woman got into her car and drove away.
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Puzzled and concerned, Ava could only wonder about the woman’s motives as she picked up her wedding dress. She decided to call Joe, the actor she had hired to test Walter, for any insights.
She had paid him for his work but hadn’t heard from him ever since his act at the cafe. She didn’t think much about it then because she was convinced Walter was really a kind and caring man. Joe didn’t answer her first calls, and when he finally did, he urgently warned her to stay away from Walter before abruptly hanging up.
Confused and alarmed, Ava pondered Joe’s reaction and decided to test Walter herself, this time without any intermediaries. She planned to disguise herself as a homeless person and approach Walter to see his true character.
Dressed in old, smelly clothes and a dirty scarf, Ava waited for Walter at a fancy restaurant where they were supposed to meet. She approached him in the parking lot, asking for help in her beggar disguise.
Remembering Brandon’s advice to maintain a good public image, Walter reluctantly gave her some money and walked away.
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Seeing his ‘kindness,’ Ava couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not trusting him. Entering the restaurant, she instantly headed straight towards him, trying to grab his arm as she called his name.
“Wal—” she began, but the words had barely left her mouth when she felt a brutal, stinging force against her face.
Walter slapped her.
“I-I’m a woman,” Ava stuttered in shock, not knowing what else to say as she watched Walter glare at her with hostile and unfamiliar eyes.
“You stinking witch! The only reason I didn’t slap you before was that we were in public. How dare you follow me!” Walter yelled. “You poverty-stricken set of beggars, I hate your kind the most!”
Walter had been holding in his emotions for a while, and seeing the utterly empty restaurant felt like a grand opportunity to take out his emotions on the beggar who DARED to almost touch him.
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“I’ve been going around with a kind look just because I’m trying to get a woman to marry me, and you think you can take advantage of that? Get out, or I’ll slap you again!” Walter continued yelling, and Ava could tell that he meant every word.
Touching her face, she felt it burn as her eyes stung from both the pain and the realization that Walter was nothing like the man she fell in love with.
As he demanded security to remove her, Ava removed her disguise, revealing her true identity.
“It’s me, Ava,” she finally said, her heart breaking.
His face turned pale. “A-Ava? How could you deceive me like this? Was this all a trap, a test? I thought you loved me. I thought you trusted me,” he stammered, trying to turn things around.
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But Ava just shook her head and smirked.
“The wedding is off, loser!” she declared before leaving.
Months later, Ava’s parents arranged another match for her. She met Brandon, a seemingly calm and gentlemanly figure.
“My name is Brandon. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me!” He greeted her with a charming smile.
I guess looks can be highly deceiving, Ava thought. Through the private investigator Ava had hired, she knew this man was more deadly than Walter. She smiled at him, deciding to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.
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If you enjoyed reading this story, you might like this one about a maid who captured a millionaire’s heart days before his wedding.
The House Was So Cheap I Thought I Won the Lottery, but When I Saw the Basement, I Understood Everything — Story of the Day
was tired of paying rent my whole life and was ready to fulfill my dream of buying my own house. A dream home at an unbeatable price seemed like the ultimate win—until I realized there were reasons for the low price hidden in the basement.
The first time I saw the house, I could hardly believe my luck.
It was like something from a postcard—a charming colonial with white siding and green shutters, tucked away at the end of a quiet, tree-lined street.
Sure, the paint was peeling a little, and the roof could use some work, but it had character. A lived-in charm that felt… welcoming. Almost.
Susan, the real estate agent, was waiting by the front door, her grin as bright as the clipboard of documents she waved in the air.
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“Perfect day to finalize your dream home, huh?” she said, her tone so chipper it made me wonder if she was trying a little too hard.
I nodded, eager to see inside. The house didn’t disappoint. Room by room, it seemed to reveal more reasons for me to fall in love.
The living room had a fireplace that practically begged for stockings at Christmas, and the hardwood floors creaked just enough to remind you they had a history.
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Susan trailed behind me, her heels clicking against the floor as she narrated.
“You won’t find a deal like this anywhere else,” she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“A home like this at this price? Practically unheard of.”
She was right, and I knew it. Still, something felt off—just a whisper of doubt at the back of my mind. It grew louder when we reached the basement door.
Unlike the others, this one had a lock. Not a simple latch, but a solid, heavy-duty lock that didn’t belong in a cozy house like this.
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“What’s down there?” I asked, pointing at the door.
Susan’s smile faltered, just for a second. She quickly recovered, but the hesitation had been enough.
“Oh, the basement,” she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss it. “Just your standard storage space. I… uh… misplaced the key. I’ll have it sent over later.”
Her voice wavered, and the way she avoided my gaze made my stomach twist. But I told myself I was overthinking it.
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After all, this was my dream house, right? A place where I could start afresh.
I signed the papers, and Susan left in a hurry, her heels clicking faster than before.
By the time I started unloading boxes from my car, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street.
That’s when I noticed her—an older woman standing on the porch of the house next door.
Her face was a map of deep wrinkles, and her thin lips curled into a tight, disapproving line, like she’d just bitten into a lemon.
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“Hi there!” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m your new neighbor.”
She didn’t answer. She just stared, her eyes narrowing before she turned and disappeared inside her house without a word.
The screen door slammed shut behind her.
I shrugged, telling myself she was probably just one of those grumpy types. Still, her silence gnawed at me.
I spent the rest of the day unpacking, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that lingered.
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By the time I collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the house settling around me like it was testing me, deciding if I belonged.
I woke to a sound that pulled me from the depths of sleep, a sound I couldn’t quite place.
At first, I thought it might’ve been the wind rattling the old windows, but then it came again—soft and eerie, like a child’s giggle.
My heart started pounding, loud and insistent, and I lay still for a moment, straining to hear more. Was I dreaming?
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The giggle came again, clearer this time. High-pitched, carefree, and completely out of place in the stillness of the night.
My throat tightened as fear prickled down my spine. I sat up, scanning the darkened room.
Shadows stretched across the walls, and the only sound was the ticking of the old clock above the mantel. But the giggle was real. I knew it.
Swallowing my nerves, I grabbed the closest thing I could find—a mop leaning against the corner of the room.
My palms were already sweaty, and the handle felt slippery as I gripped it tightly.
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I crept through the house, the hardwood floors creaking beneath my feet. My breathing was shallow, and every step made my chest tighten further.
The sound grew louder as I approached the basement door. The lock on it glinted faintly in the dim light. I stopped, staring at the door as if it might move on its own.
My stomach churned as I raised the mop, holding it like a weapon. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaking.
Silence. For a moment, I thought maybe the sound had been in my head.
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Then it came again—a giggle, followed by a soft, whispering hush that sent goosebumps racing up my arms.
I couldn’t bring myself to open the door. Instead, I backed away, grabbing my phone and dialing 911 with trembling fingers.
The dispatcher’s calm voice tried to soothe me, but all I could do was stammer about the noises.
Twenty minutes felt like an eternity before the flashing red and blue lights finally appeared outside.
A single officer stepped out, his posture relaxed, his face unimpressed. “So, what’s going on here?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.
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“There’s someone in the basement,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “I heard laughing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Laughing, huh?” With a sigh, he fetched a crowbar from his car and approached the door.
The sound of the lock snapping open echoed in the quiet house. I held my breath as he disappeared down the stairs, his flashlight casting strange, flickering shadows.
Minutes later, he reappeared, shaking his head.
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“Just cobwebs and dust,” he said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Nothing down there.”
“But I heard it!” I protested, heat rising to my face.
He smirked, shrugging.
“You’re not the first. Last few owners said the same thing. If you’re scared, maybe this isn’t the house for you.”
I clenched my fists, my frustration bubbling. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”
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“Suit yourself, and good luck with the haunted house.” He left laughing, leaving me standing in the hallway, mop in hand, seething as the sound of his cruiser faded into the night.
The next morning, my phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the quiet stillness of the house.
I picked it up and glanced at the screen. A number I didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Margaret,” a thin, raspy voice said on the other end.
“The previous owner. Just checking in to see how you’re settling in.”
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Her voice immediately put me on edge, like she already knew something I didn’t. I hesitated before replying.
“The house is lovely,” I said cautiously. “But… something strange happened last night.”
There was a pause. I could hear her breathing, soft and uneven. Then she sighed—a long, heavy sound that made my stomach drop.
“You’re not the first, Clara” she admitted finally.
“There’s… a history with that house. Some say it’s haunted. I’ve tried to fix it, but nothing ever helps.”
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Haunted? The word hung in the air like a fog. My fingers tightened around the phone. “What kind of history?” I asked, my voice firmer than I felt.
She dodged the question.
“If you want out, I’m willing to buy it back,” she said quickly, her tone almost desperate. “Not the full price, but close enough.”
Her offer was tempting. I wouldn’t have to deal with the creepy noises or the weird basement.
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But the thought of giving up made my pride bristle. I’d worked hard for this house. I wasn’t about to walk away.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ll figure this out.”
After we hung up, I grabbed a flashlight and headed for the basement. The air was cool and damp, carrying the stale smell of mildew.
I swept the beam of light across the basement. Dusty shelves, old pipes, and cobwebs filled my view.
Then I noticed something strange—scuff marks on the floor near the vent. Faint but deliberate, like something had been moved. My pulse quickened. Something wasn’t adding up.
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That night, I lay in bed, the blankets pulled tightly around me, every muscle tense. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, listening to the silence.
It wasn’t peaceful, though. It felt like the house was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Then, it came. The giggle. That same eerie, childlike sound that sent chills racing down my spine.
I sat up, heart pounding, but this time, it wasn’t just laughter. A faint hissing followed, like air escaping a tire.
My chest tightened as I slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs, each step creaking louder than I wanted.
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When I reached the basement door, I froze. A pale mist was creeping out from underneath, curling like ghostly fingers into the hallway.
My breath caught, and I fumbled for my phone, quickly dialing 911.
It wasn’t long before the now-familiar police cruiser pulled up. The same officer stepped out, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
“Again?” he said, shaking his head as he approached.
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Before I could respond, another car pulled into the driveway. Margaret stepped out, her face pale and drawn, her movements nervous.
“I heard what’s happening,” she said, avoiding my gaze.
“Let’s all go down together,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady. The officer sighed but nodded, his flashlight already in hand.
Margaret hesitated, but with a glance at me, she reluctantly agreed.
The basement was just as empty as before—dusty shelves, cobwebs, and shadows.
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“See? Nothing,” the officer said, his frustration obvious. “You sure you’re not imagining things?”
I wasn’t backing down. “I set up a camera,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let’s check the footage.”
I pressed play. The video showed Margaret sneaking into the basement.
She unlocked the door, placed a small speaker near the vent, and set up a fog machine before quickly leaving.
The officer’s jaw tightened. “Well, well,” he muttered. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a case.”
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Margaret’s face flushed red. “I… I was just trying to get the house back!” she stammered. “I didn’t mean any harm!”
The officer snapped handcuffs onto her wrists. “You can explain that to the judge.”
As they led her away, I stood in the doorway of my house, breathing deeply. For the first time, I felt like it was truly mine. I had fought for it, and I had won.
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: It was a tough life for Molly. Her main concern was her son, Tommy. The constant changing of schools and towns wasn’t good for him. He started bullying other kids and starting fights. She never imagined that one call to the principal’s office would restore a part of her life she thought was lost.
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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