Vera gathers her family under one roof, secretly testing their loyalty. When her grandson Leo vanishes, she finds him at neighbor Arthur’s house. Arthur shocks everyone by revealing he is Leo’s real grandfather. As tensions explode, Vera is forced to confront the past she fought so hard to keep buried.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the soft scent of fresh flowers. The house was still asleep. It was too early for Greg’s usual complaints, too soon for Fiona to start recording her morning wellness video with her smoothie.
But my girls? They were always up before the sun.
“Well, Vera, how does it feel?” Daisy sipped her coffee, casting a playful glance at me from under her lashes.
“Feel about what?” I took a sip myself, listening to the soft hum of birds waking in the distance.
“About the fact that your family still hasn’t recovered from last night’s dinner in the garden,” Clara chimed in, gracefully stirring her coffee. “And more importantly, that everyone suddenly seems so taken with Arthur.”
I sighed, setting my cup down carefully.
“Oh, yes. At first, they stared at him like he was a ghost. Then they started talking to him like an old friend. And now? Leo is completely enchanted.”
“Kids love surprises,” Daisy agreed. “To him, it’s like a detective novel—an old mystery man appears with a bombshell revelation.”
“Greg needs time too,” I pressed my lips together.
Clara lowered her cup, giving me a knowing look. “And did you need time?”
I looked away. “Arthur was always charming. At first.”
Daisy let out a dramatic sigh. “Here it comes! Vera, we all know your children thought Richard was their only father, but you never told us everything.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already told you. You just didn’t listen.”
“No,” Clara shifted the ring on her finger. “You only told us what you wanted us to hear.”
Daisy clutched her chest theatrically. “Well, tell us now! How did Arthur disappear from your life, and how did Mr. Perfect Husband step in?”
I rolled my eyes. “You already know the story.”
“We just want a refresher,” Clara smiled sweetly, sipping her coffee again.
I sighed and took another sip. “Arthur and I… We were young, in love, and reckless. He wanted a quiet life—just a house, a garden, and family. But I… I wanted more. I wanted the excitement, the travel, the status. I didn’t see myself with a man who wore plaid shirts and planted tomatoes.”
Daisy rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, you certainly got what you wanted.”
“Yes. But here’s the strange part—at dinner last night, I suddenly realized that Greg didn’t just inherit my stubborn streak. He got something from Arthur too.”
“Like what?” Clara raised a curious brow.
“That stubborn determination. Greg will resist, fight, but in the end, he always returns to what truly matters. He always wants control. That’s from his father.”
“And what now?” Daisy asked, leaning forward.
“And now… Arthur is coming to breakfast,” I replied, glancing at the clock.
Daisy nearly choked on her coffee. “What?!”
“Leo’s thrilled to have a grandfather he never knew existed. Greg… Well, he doesn’t know how to feel, but he agreed the kids should spend time with him.”
Clara nodded slowly. “Ah, that’s how it always starts. He charmed you, too.”
Before I could respond, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught our attention.
We all turned to watch as a sleek black sedan rolled up, and out stepped Belinda.
I narrowed my eyes, watching her lean into the car, saying a careful goodbye to someone inside before the vehicle drove off. Belinda smoothed her hair and walked toward the house, clearly trying to act like everything was normal.
“Hm,” Clara hummed. “Looks like she didn’t spend the night at home.”
I smirked. “At least one mystery I’m going to solve.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” Daisy grinned, intrigued.
I watched my daughter climb the steps to the front door. “Oh, I have my ways.”
Later that evening
If there was one thing I hated more than unexpected guests, it was unsolved mysteries. And my daughter sneaking in at dawn in some stranger’s car? That was a mystery begging for answers.
I didn’t confront her immediately. No, I played it smart.
At breakfast, Belinda sat up straight, sipping her green tea as though she had just come back from a serene yoga session, instead of whatever escapade she had been up to.
As night fell, I did something I hadn’t done in years. I followed my daughter. It had been ages since I had engaged in a proper stakeout.
Back in my prime, I had pulled off plenty of covert operations: digging through my late husband’s ledgers, uncovering a neighbor’s secret gambling ring, and the like.
But following Belinda without getting caught? That required finesse.
She left the house just past eleven, no hesitation, no second thoughts. A clear red flag. If you're sneaking out, at least have the decency to hesitate.
I slipped into my car and kept a safe distance behind her. She drove for nearly twenty minutes before pulling up to a modest suburban house. No lights inside.
Then, to my utter shock, my daughter—Belinda, the model of responsibility—climbed out of her car, walked up to the house, and slipped in through a side window.
What in the world…?
Before I could even fully process what was happening, the porch light flickered on. A shadow moved behind the curtains.
Belinda froze. Then she bolted. She ran like someone who had just been caught doing something she definitely should not have been doing.
Instinct took over. I slammed my car into drive, pulled up in front of her, and threw open the passenger door.
“Get in.”
“Mom?!” she gasped, out of breath, eyes wide.
“Would you rather explain yourself to me or the cops?” I nodded toward the patrol car slowly turning at the end of the street.
She groaned, jumped in, and slammed the door shut.
That’s how I found myself speeding down the road at 1 a.m., with my daughter in full panic mode beside me, and the flashing red and blue lights of a patrol car in the rearview mirror.
I pulled into a deserted parking lot of a dimly lit roadside bar, cut the engine, and turned to my daughter.
"Start talking."
Belinda stared out the window, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat.
"Mom, I…" She exhaled sharply. "I don’t even know where to start."
"Try the part where I had to outrun the cops in my own car because my daughter, who color-codes her grocery lists, was sneaking into a house."
She closed her eyes, biting her lip. "I wasn’t sneaking in."
"Oh, right. You were… what? Checking their locks? Giving unsolicited home improvement advice?"
"Mom, please. This isn’t funny."
I softened a little. "Then tell me what it is."
She sat silently for a moment. Then, her voice trembling, she spoke.
"I had a baby when I was twenty-five."
Time froze. The words echoed in my mind.
"What?!"
"I had a daughter. I gave her up," she whispered. "I was scared of you. I needed to start my career."
I felt the world tilt under me.
"But… how?" My voice cracked. "I would’ve known."
"You were away," she said softly, eyes filled with guilt. "That year you traveled for that long trip, and I was left with the nanny… She helped me."
I could feel the world crumbling around me.
Nina. The nanny I had hired to keep everything stable while I took my grand adventure.
"I never saw her again," Belinda whispered. "Nina took her and raised her as her own."
And now, I had a granddaughter I’d never known about. She wiped her eyes. "I can’t have children anymore, Mom. But she’s mine. She’s always been mine."
"You should’ve told me."
Belinda let out a hollow laugh. "Told you? The woman who runs this family like a courtroom? Mom, I was scared to tell you anything."
It stung, but she wasn’t wrong.
I sat there, staring at her—my daughter—who had carried this secret for so long.
"I have to fix this," I muttered.
"What?!"
I straightened up, mind racing. "You said Nina took her, right?"
Belinda nodded, and with that, I started the car.
"Then I know exactly where to start."
If my past was the only way to fix my daughter’s future—then it was time to face it head-on.
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If you enjoyed the third part of the story, read the next one: I thought I could sneak away, bury the past for good. But when my grandson blackmailed me into taking him, my daughter forced her way in, and my ex conveniently needed a ride—I knew the past wasn’t done with me yet. Read the full story here.
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