Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Man I Married Hid the Truth His Father Killed My Mother and I’m Pregnant #40

Episode Date: August 3, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #familysecrets #darkbetrayal #psychologicalhorror #pregnancystory #hauntedpast  After marrying the man she loves, the protagonist uncovers a horrifying truth: his father was responsible for her mother’s death. Pregnant and trapped in a web of deceit, she faces an impossible choice between love, revenge, and protecting her unborn child. This story delves into the psychological torment of betrayal, family curses, and the haunting weight of the past that refuses to stay buried.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, familysecrets, darkfamily, betrayalstory, psychologicalthriller, hauntedpast, emotionaldrama, pregnancyhorror, twistedfamily, darklegacy, chillingstory, truecrime, tragicromance, horrorfiction, suspense

Hey, I'm honestly shaking as I sit down to write all this. I don't really know what I'm hoping for by getting it all out, maybe clarity, maybe comfort. Maybe just to not feel like I'm completely drowning in it alone. I haven't told anyone yet, so I guess this is the first time I'm saying it out loud, or well, writing it. Anyway, here's the story. I'm 29, female, and I've been married to my husband, Matt, who's 32, for almost a year now. We met three years ago, fell in love pretty fast, and got engaged within a year. We got married last summer in a sweet little ceremony with close friends, and honestly,

it felt like the happiest day of my life. I met Matt the day I moved into this loft apartment above a bar, the bar he owned. Yeah, seriously, like out of a movie or something. He was seeing someone else when we met, so I didn't really think too much of it at the time, But eventually, that ended and we started dating. From the beginning, Matt knew about the biggest trauma in my life. My mom died when I was 16. We were in a car crashed together, a hit and run by a drunk driver.

My mom was picking me up from a friend's house because some of the kids there were drinking, and I felt uncomfortable. It was past two in the morning, and I just wanted to go home. So she came to get me, and it ended up costing her life. I remember the headlights coming toward us before everything turned into chaos. I blacked out and woke up to EMS pulling me out of the wreckage. At the hospital, all I kept doing was asking for my mom, over and over. And then a police officer came in and told me she didn't make it.

That moment split my life in two, before and after. It wrecked everything. I was put into foster care for a bit, but that didn't work out, and I ended up homeless for a while. It was rough. Eventually, I got my GED, found a halfway decent job, and moved into my first apartment when I was 23. For the first time in years, I started feeling like maybe I had a chance at a normal life. Meeting Matt felt like fate. Like everything that had gone wrong in my life led up to him. He was charming, a little clumsy, he actually tripped me the first time we talked, and had this way of making me feel safe in a world that never had. Our relationship moved

fast, but it felt right. We were in love. It didn't take long before we were living together, then engaged, then married. And now, we're expecting our first child. I'm pregnant. And for once, I was actually looking forward to the future. Genuinely happy. This past weekend was Mother's Day. It's always hard for me, obviously. I usually go to my mom's grave, leave some flowers, talk to her a bit. I did that a couple days before Mother's Day this year, but on the actual day, Matt planned a little picnic for us at sunset. It was low-key but sweet, and he was trying so hard to make me smile. I was sitting at home earlier that day thinking about how next year I'll actually be a mom on Mother's Day.

It was a bittersweet kind of joy. Then everything changed. I got a call. It was the detective who's been handling my mom's cold case. He told me that the guy who killed my mom, the hit-and-run driver, had been arrested two states away for getting into a bar fight. They ran his fingerprints, and boom. It was him. They finally had him in custody after 13 years.

I was completely overwhelmed. I hung up and just started pacing around the house, not even sure what to do with myself. When Matt came home, I didn't even mention the call right away. We went on our planned picnic. I told my mom everything at her grave, cried a little, let it out. It felt like some kind of closure was finally beginning. That was yesterday. This morning, I woke up early, still riding the emotional roller coaster,

and was about to get ready to head to the police station to follow up when I noticed Matt's phone buzzing. He was dead asleep, and we'd been up late the night before at his sister's place, so I thought I'd just turn off the ringer to let him sleep longer. But when I picked it up, I saw the area code of the incoming call. It was from the same state where the guy got arrested. My stomach dropped. I wasn't planning to snoop, but then a text popped up. Yo, Matt, I'm in trouble.

I stared at it. Then another came in. I was arrested. My heart sank. I didn't even want to believe what my brain was starting to piece together. I called the number. And the voice on the other end, slurred, panicked, started rambling without even letting me say a word. I'm out but not for long.

They're coming for me, Maddie, for that girl I killed. I froze. Couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. I let out this tiny gasp, and whoever it was must have heard it because they immediately hung up. I turned off the phone right then and there. I didn't want Matt to know I heard. I didn't even know what I had just heard.

I hid the phone in my jewelry box, paste the room like a ghost, then ran to the kitchen and threw up. Matt walked in on me and thought it was morning sickness. He rubbed my back and comforted me. I was completely silent. Not a single tear. Just numb. He went looking for his phone a bit later but eventually gave up and came back to bed, holding me like everything was fine.

Like he wasn't someone I suddenly didn't recognize. From that moment on, I couldn't stop hating everything. I hated him. I hated the baby growing inside me. I hated this house we bought together, the stupid way he always kissed my forehead, the rituals we built like Taco Tuesday. I hated him rubbing my belly to help me sleep. I felt trapped in a life that suddenly felt like a lie.

I stayed awake the rest of the morning, planning how I was going to confront him. I brought up the guy being caught, said I wanted to see him face to face. I even started Googling his mugshot right there with Matt beside me, just to gauge his reaction. He tensed up. I started saying things like, I can't imagine having a family member who did something like that. I'd disown them. I'd hate myself just for being related. Matt looked at me, just stared.

And in that moment, I knew he knew that I knew. I closed my laptop. He started crying. He told me he had no idea who I was when we first met. That he didn't know I was that girl, the one whose mom he, well, whose mom his dad, yeah. Because that's what this all came down to. Matt's father, the man I never met, never even talked to, the one he always called a drunk and kept at arm's length, he was the one who killed my mother. The drunk driver.

The man who disappeared and hid for over a decade. That was Matt's dad. And now, I don't know what the hell to do. Matt swore he didn't know at first. He said he found out later, but he didn't know how to tell me. He gave excuse after excuse. I wanted to scream at him, hit him, leave him. But also, I still love him.

God, I wish I didn't, but I do. I told him I couldn't stay in the house. I needed space. So he booked me a hotel room and ordered me dinner. I'm here now, writing this. He texted me goodnight, said he loved me. After everything I told him, everything I'm telling you now, he still said he loved me. And I'm just sitting here, not knowing what the hell to do.

Part of me wants to run. File for divorce. Get full custody and disappear. Leave the country if I have to. Never look back. But another part of me, the broken part, it still wants the life we built. Still wants him.

And that makes me feel disgusting. He's not his father. I know that. But his silence has wrecked me. The betrayal, the way he let me fall in love and build a life with him while hiding this truth. I don't know how to move past it. I have no family to turn to. No one to crash with.

It's just me. Me, this baby, and this big, ugly truth. So yeah. That's where I'm at. Lost. Heartbroken. Terrified. and stuck between love and rage.

I don't know how this ends. I just hope it doesn't destroy me first. The end.