My Wife’s Best Friend Holds A Hammer And Enters My Wife’s Room In The Middle Of The Night—The Truth Behind It Terrified Me

My wife had let her best friend stay at our house. One night, around midnight, she came into my wife’s room holding a hammer. What followed was a terrifying truth.

It was almost midnight. Everything around me was eerily quiet. I quietly opened the door to the house, feeling like my body was about to fall apart. The overtime work for an upcoming project had been far more exhausting than I’d imagined.

By this time, my wife must have been fast asleep. She didn’t usually stay up late. I went downstairs to make a warm cup of milk to help me relax. Suddenly, a noise broke the stillness, grabbing my attention.

I’m a very sensitive person, and even though the sound was faint, I immediately recognized it as something dropping to the floor. Violet, my wife, was sound asleep, and we didn’t have any pets. So where did that sound come from?

I set my milk down and moved slowly toward the source of the noise. I figured it must have been the old storage room. Maybe some rats were causing trouble, or perhaps something worse was waiting for me.

The storage room was right next to the kitchen, and aside from some old junk, there was nothing of value inside. I cautiously approached, and to my surprise, the door to the storage room was wide open. It couldn’t be rats; no rat could open that door.

I peeked inside and saw a shadow busy doing something. I froze for a second, but quickly collected myself and realized it was Amy, my wife’s best friend.

She had been staying with us for almost a week now. Of course, I didn’t feel entirely comfortable with her being here, but my wife kept pleading, giving countless reasons—Amy was her best friend, she had helped her so much in the past, she was going through a rough time and needed help, and she’d only be staying a few days.

If I didn’t agree, I’d be the selfish husband, the one without compassion. Still, there was something about Amy that always made me feel uneasy.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice firm.

Amy jumped when she realized she’d been caught. She quickly turned around and, seeing me, sighed, “Hi, Nick. I’m setting some mouse traps. Jane mentioned earlier that there are too many mice in the storage room, and she’s worried they might sneak into the kitchen.”

I furrowed my brows and walked closer. Sure enough, Amy was busy setting up mouse traps, but I still felt a lingering sense of suspicion.
“Why didn’t you do this earlier and wait until the middle of the night?” I asked, trying to keep my tone calm but still irritated.

“I just remembered,” Amy responded, almost as if she were trying to find an excuse.
I didn’t want to argue with her, so I walked upstairs to the bedroom. Jane was fast asleep, completely unaware of anything happening.

The next morning, Jane woke me up with a sweet kiss, and I was still incredibly tired from staying late the night before working overtime for the project.
“Good morning, my love! You look really tired.”
“Good morning, babe. I got home really late last night,” I said, sounding sluggish.

Jane gently squeezed my shoulders. “When is your project going to be finished?”
I replied softly, “It’ll probably take a few more weeks.”
Jane pouted. “That’s quite a while. At least you’ve got Amy to keep you company.”

Just hearing Amy’s name made me feel uncomfortable. My brows furrowed slightly as I asked, “How long is Amy planning to stay, babe?”
Jane answered sweetly, “She still hasn’t found a job, so it’s probably going to be a while.”
“How long is ‘a while’? What if she never finds a job?” I snapped, frustrated.

Jane seemed to sense my discomfort and placed her hand on my temples, gently massaging them. “Come on, don’t worry. She’ll leave soon, I promise.”

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Honey, it’s not that I don’t care about people, but your friend Amy is strange. I don’t feel comfortable having her here with you.”

Jane looked at me, surprised. “What are you saying? Amy’s been my friend for years. She’s not like that. If you’re worried, just come home earlier.”
I felt a little guilty. “I’m sorry, but you know how it is with work. Please understand.”
Jane smiled. “Well, then you have to understand my side with Amy.”

I knew there was no way I could argue with Jane. She was a lawyer and always knew how to use her words well. I had to compromise, but deep down, I couldn’t let this go. I had to figure out what Amy was really up to and get her out of the house.

That night, I came home late again. I had planned to come home early to spend time with Jane, but my boss invited me out for a drink to talk about the project. I wasn’t good at refusing, and we ended up talking until one in the morning.

I returned home slightly tipsy, and as soon as I opened the door, I saw Amy sitting in the living room watching TV. She was wearing a thin nightdress, looking incredibly alluring. I staggered toward her and asked, “Amy, why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“I was waiting for you to come home,” Amy smiled, then got up and went into the kitchen.
“You’re drunk. Should I make you some lemonade?” she said as she began to prepare the drink.

Her overly attentive behavior made me feel a chill down my spine. I quickly refused, “No, I’m just going to take a shower and sleep.”

Amy paused, then stepped closer to me. “Why not? Drink something to sober up. It’s really bad to shower at this time.” As she spoke, she moved closer to me, and I quickly stepped back, sweating nervously.

“I said I don’t need anything. I’m going to bed, and you should too,” I turned and hurried up the stairs, but my steps were unsteady.
Amy quickly steadied me. The physical contact made me even more uncomfortable, but she seemed to be getting emboldened.

Her scent was intoxicating, and with the softness of her skin, I almost lost control. But with the little bit of rationality I had left, I pushed her away. “Get off me. I’m going to bed.”

Amy was pushed back but didn’t seem upset. She simply smiled, and I quickly fled up the stairs.

It took me over forty minutes in the bathroom to finally shake off the effects of what had just happened. Amy was indeed up to something, and I needed to find a way to get her out of the house as soon as possible.

Thinking back, there had been many odd behaviors since Amy had come to stay with us. I remembered coming home late one night to see her standing by the fence in the yard, and another time, I found her digging something up behind the house.

What was even stranger was the way she looked at Jane—there was something in her gaze that made me uneasy. Last night, she even tried to seduce me. These increasingly bold actions were making me feel more and more unsettled, especially since she was frequently alone with Jane.

But if I told Jane, she’d accuse me of making things hard for her friend. I needed proof of Amy’s strange behavior to show Jane before I could do anything.
Tonight, Jane and Amy were going to a party with friends, so I decided to sneak into the storage room to see what Amy had been doing in there.

But I also needed to be careful in case they came back unexpectedly. Around 8 p.m., I called Jane.
“Hey, babe! When are you coming back?” I asked warmly.
“Probably after 10 p.m.,” she replied cheerfully.

I glanced at the news on TV and saw that they were broadcasting a manhunt for a bank robber from last month, whose whereabouts were still unknown.

“Things are dangerous outside these days. You should come home early,” I said, feeling worried.
“I know. Plus, Amy’s with me, remember? Don’t forget she’s a black belt in karate,” Jane laughed.

With her around, I actually felt more worried, but of course, I didn’t dare say that to Jane. I gave her a few more instructions and hung up, then rushed down to the storage room to check it out.

It had been a while since I’d been in there. I’d been so busy with work, and normally, it was Jane who went in to clean.
I began searching, and after about thirty minutes, I had turned the whole room upside down but found nothing unusual. Could it really be that Amy was only in there setting mouse traps?

I didn’t believe that. Then it hit me—the storage room had a small cellar. I quickly moved a pile of items from the corner, and sure enough, there was a trapdoor beneath.

I opened it right away, and underneath were several large sacks. I had no idea what was inside. I immediately pulled one out to check, and within seconds, I was shocked to my core.

Inside were piles of money—an enormous sum I couldn’t even begin to imagine. The question that ran through my mind was, why did Amy have so much money and still stay at our house? What was she up to, and why was she hiding money in the storage room?

I thought about calling Jane right away, but she was with Amy, and if they found out, it could be dangerous. However, once she returned, I knew I’d have to tell her everything and figure out how to handle this.

Suddenly, the news report from earlier flashed in my mind. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. The theory that Amy could be the fugitive, although hard to believe, wasn’t impossible when I pieced together the clues. But what was her plan with me and Jane?

In my confusion, I came up with a plan to trap Amy and expose her true intentions. I grabbed my phone and sent Jane a message: “I need to go to the company for something urgent. You can head back and sleep, I’ll be home later.”

It was already past 10 PM. Jane stumbled to bed, a bit tipsy from catching up with an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while. She opened her phone, read a message, and then peacefully went to sleep, knowing I wouldn’t be back that night. She had a habit of sleeping deeply, sometimes not even noticing if the sky fell down.

As Jane fell into a deep sleep, the door to her room suddenly creaked open. Amy silently entered, holding a hammer. She slowly approached Jane’s bed and stood watching her for a moment. Then, the lights flashed on, and a voice shouted, “Hands up!”

I, along with a few officers who had been monitoring through the cameras, rushed in immediately. They quickly surrounded Amy, while I ran to Jane’s side. The scream woke her up.

Jane was startled by the scene and didn’t understand what was happening. I pointed at Amy. “I knew it! You were trying to hurt Jane, you wicked person.”

Amy looked at the police and then at me. Jane asked, “What’s going on, everyone?”
I immediately said, “She’s the bank robber.”
Jane covered her mouth in shock and asked, “How is that possible?”

I smirked. “I found it, Amy. You’ve been hiding bags of money in the storage room at my house. I’m sure it’s illegal money. If it wasn’t, you could have just used it to buy a house instead of staying at mine.”

Amy remained silent. At that moment, one of the officers suddenly answered his phone, his face tense. He looked at me and said, “I just got notified—the fugitive has been caught, and the money has been recovered. This Amy is not the one. You might have been mistaken.”

The information hit me like a thunderclap. I yelled, “That’s impossible, but even so, what was she doing with a hammer in my wife’s room?”
Amy sighed and said, “I came in to fix Jane’s bed.”

“Are you crazy? Why would you walk in with a hammer in the middle of the night, saying you’re fixing the bed? Who would believe that?”
“I just told Jane earlier. I was going to leave early tomorrow, so I thought I should fix it now so she wouldn’t forget,” Amy explained.

I still couldn’t believe it. “What about the money in the storage room?”
Amy coldly replied, “It’s my money. What’s wrong with that?”
“Enough!” Jane suddenly shouted.
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

The police soon left, as there was no real evidence to resolve the situation. Jane and I stayed in the living room talking with Amy. “Explain yourself, Amy. Why do you keep doing these strange things in the middle of the night?” I demanded.

Amy looked at Jane, then lowered her head. “I was just fixing things around the house for you two. You’re never home, so you wouldn’t know if something was broken. I just wanted to make Jane happy, so I’d fix things at night and tell her you did it.”

Both Jane and I were taken aback. Amy continued, “You’re a careless husband. Outside of work, do you ever care about this house? You didn’t even bother dealing with the mice problem. Jane is a young woman here alone. How dangerous is that? And you never even notice.” I lowered my head in shame.

Amy was even more insistent. “The other day, I tried to seduce you just to test if you were faithful. Luckily, you’re not that bad. If you had…”
Jane cut her off, “Okay, Amy! Why are you doing this? You clearly have a lot of money, so why come to my house and do all these things?”

Amy’s face briefly showed sadness, and then she sighed. “Because I don’t have much time left. I wanted to do something for you. The money in the storage room, I intended to leave for you.”

Both Jane and I froze, unable to process what we had just heard. My ears rang, and what I was hearing seemed almost impossible.
Tears welled up in Jane’s eyes. “Amy! What’s going on with you?”
Amy looked melancholic. “I have an incurable illness. I don’t have long to live. Tomorrow, I’m going to the hospital to donate my organs, and then I’ll go see my mother one last time.”

Jane burst into sobs, rushing to hug Amy, while I sat frozen, unsure of what to say. Amy gently stroked her hair. “It’s okay, don’t cry. Just remember, next time, even if someone is as close as family, don’t let another woman stay at your house. It’s dangerous, you understand?”

Jane cried harder, and Amy looked at me. “Nick! I hope this is a lesson for you. You need to be a better husband. It’s a shame I won’t get to meet your children.”

Outside, the rain began to pour. Jane felt she had a good friend, but looking into Amy’s eyes, I realized something. For Amy, Jane was… love.
I felt deeply ashamed standing before the immense love she had for Jane.

This story draws inspiration from real-life events and individuals, but it has been adapted and fictionalized for creative expression. Names, characters, and specific details have been altered to protect individuals’ privacy and to enhance the storyline. Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased, or actual events is coincidental and unintentional.