My Dad Who Left 20 Years Ago Called from His Deathbed for a Final Wish — What He Asked Broke My Heart
When my estranged father, who left 20 years ago, called from his deathbed, I was torn between anger and curiosity. His final wish was something I never expected, and what he revealed about his disappearance shattered everything I thought I knew.
I was getting ready for bed when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The number was unfamiliar, so I let it go to voicemail. Not even a minute later, a text came through: “ALICE, THIS IS YOUR DAD. PLEASE CALL, I AM IN THE HOSPITAL.”
A woman in her bedroom at night, looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
My heart stopped. Dad? After twenty years? I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the message. Part of me wanted to delete it and forget, but curiosity won. I called the number back.
“Hello?” The voice was weak, barely audible.
“Dad?”
“Alice, it’s me. I… I don’t have much time.”
“Why are you calling now?” My voice was harsher than I intended.
“I need to explain… to ask something of you. But please, don’t tell your mother.”
Doctors standing beside a hospital bed, looking concerned | Source: Pexels
There it was, the same secrecy that defined my childhood. “What do you want?”
He took a shaky breath. “I left because your grandfather, Harold, paid me to disappear. He hated me, thought I was a failure. He found someone else for your mom, someone better.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Grandpa? He did that?”
“Yes. I was struggling back then. Addictions, bad decisions. Your grandfather saw a chance to get rid of me, and I took the money.”
A sick-looking man lying in bed | Source: Pexels
“So you just left us for money?” Anger bubbled up.
“I know it sounds awful. But I invested that money, built a business. It was all for you, Alice. To secure your future.”
“Why didn’t you ever come back?”
“Part of the deal. I couldn’t approach you or your mom. But I was there, watching. I saw your graduation, your volleyball games. I was always there, just… from a distance.”
I felt like my world was tilting. “Why didn’t Mom ever tell me?”
An old man in a hospital bed talking on a cell phone | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want you to hate him. Or maybe she thought she was protecting you.”
“What do you want now?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I need to see you, Alice. One last time before I go. I’m at St. Mary’s Hospital.”
I didn’t know what to say. Could I face him after everything?
“Please, Alice. It’s my dying wish.”
The exterior of a hospital building at night | Source: Midjourney
The line went silent, and I sat there, the phone still in my hand, my thoughts tumbling. Should I go? What would I even say to him? I needed to think, but there was no time. He was dying.
The next morning, I called in sick to work and sat in my kitchen, staring at my coffee. Should I tell Mom? But he’d asked me not to.
I called my best friend, Jen. “Hey, can we talk?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
A woman talking on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
“It’s… it’s my dad. He called last night.”
“Your dad? The one who left?”
“Yeah. He’s dying, and he wants to see me.”
“Wow. How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. Angry, confused. He told me things, Jen. About my Grandpa.”
“Like what?”
“That my grandfather paid him to leave. He said he was there at my graduation, my games. But he couldn’t approach us.”
“That’s insane. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. He wants me to visit him, but I’m not sure I can.”
A woman in conversation on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
Jen was silent for a moment. “Maybe you should go. Get some answers. Closure.”
“I guess. But I don’t know if I’m ready to face him.”
“Take your time, but don’t take too long. If he’s dying…”
“I know. Thanks, Jen.”
After hanging up, I sat back, deep in thought. Jen was right. Maybe I did need closure. I couldn’t keep living with these unanswered questions. And if he really was dying… I had to see him.
A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels
I decided to go to the hospital. As I drove, memories of my childhood flashed through my mind. The good times before he left, the confusion and pain afterward. The way Mom never spoke about him, the unanswered questions that haunted me.
I walked into the hospital room, feeling the weight of years and unanswered questions pressing down on me. The beeping machines filled the stark room with an unsettling rhythm. My dad lay in the bed, looking more frail than I had ever imagined. His eyes lit up when he saw me, a weak smile forming on his lips.
An old man sitting up in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
“Alice,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Hi, Dad.” I stood at the foot of the bed, not sure what to say. Anger and confusion swirled inside me, but seeing him like this, so vulnerable, made it hard to voice them.
“You came,” he said, relief evident in his eyes.
“I had to. I needed to understand why.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry for everything.” He reached out a trembling hand, and I took it, feeling the cold, fragile skin.
A young woman close to an old man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
“Why did you do it, Dad? Why did you take Grandpa’s money and leave us?”
He sighed, a deep, rattling sound. “I thought it was the best way to secure a future for you and your mother. I was a mess, Alice. Addicted, broke. Your grandfather offered me a way out, a chance to give you a better life, even if it meant I couldn’t be part of it.”
“Do you know how much that hurt us? How much it hurt me?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “You missed everything, Dad. My graduation, my volleyball games, my entire life.”
A woman with tears in her eyes | Source: Midjourney
“I was there, Alice. Watching from afar. It broke my heart not to be with you, but I thought I was doing the right thing.” He paused, struggling for breath. “I tried to make it right. I invested the money, built something that I hoped would help you.”
“Why didn’t you come back when you were better?”
“I couldn’t. Part of the deal was that I had to stay away. But I wrote to you, Alice. Letters, every year. They’re in a safety deposit box. Here.” He handed me a small key. “After I’m gone, open it. You’ll find proof of everything, and the letters.”
A small key in the palm of a hand | Source: Pexels
I took the key, my fingers trembling. “Why now, Dad? Why tell me all this now?”
“Because I’m dying, and I can’t leave this world without you knowing the truth. I love you, Alice. I’ve always loved you.”
Tears streamed down my face as I gripped his hand. “I needed you, Dad. I needed my father.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I hope you’ll understand why I did what I did when you read those letters.”
An apparently comatose figure in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels
We sat in silence, holding hands, the machines’ beeping the only sound in the room. After a while, his breathing became more labored. He squeezed my hand one last time, and then he was gone.
I left the hospital feeling a mix of emotions. Relief, anger, sadness, and a strange sense of closure. The next day, I went to the bank and used the key to open the safety deposit box. Inside, I found stacks of financial documents and a bundle of letters, each one addressed to me, dated over the years.
A corridor of safety deposit boxes | Source: Midjourney
I took the letters home and spent hours reading them. Each one was filled with his regrets, his love, his hopes for my future. He wrote about the business he built, how he watched over me, how proud he was of my achievements.
By the time I finished the last letter, my anger had softened into a deep, aching sadness.
With the financial documents, it was clear that my father had indeed worked hard to secure my future. The money he left behind was substantial, enough to change my life. But it wasn’t just about the money. It was about understanding his choices, his sacrifices, and his love.
A woman takes up a hand-written letter | Source: Pexels
I knew I had to talk to my mom. I needed to know her side of the story. When I confronted her, she looked at me with sad eyes.
“I knew about the offer,” she admitted. “I didn’t stop it because I thought it was best for you too. I thought you deserved a better life than what your father could give you at that time.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I wanted to protect you from the truth, to let you remember him without bitterness. Maybe I was wrong, but I did what I thought was best.”
An elderly woman looking down thoughtfully | Source: Pexels
Her confession was another piece of the puzzle, helping me to understand the complex web of decisions that shaped my life.
In the end, I decided to use the money to start a scholarship fund in my father’s name. It felt like the right way to honor his memory and his efforts. It was a way to help others, just as he had tried to help me.
As I launched the scholarship, I felt a sense of peace. The past was complicated and painful, but it had brought me to where I was. And now, with the truth out in the open, I could move forward, honoring both my father’s love and my mother’s sacrifices.
A woman making calculations with a pen in hand | Source: Pexels
We Played a Game Answering Calls and Texts with Family on Thanksgiving — I Accidentally Exposed My Husband’s Second Family
What started as a playful Thanksgiving game turned into Mary’s worst nightmare. When a mysterious text on her husband Emmett’s phone mentioned a daughter she’d never heard of, Mary’s world spiraled. Her investigation uncovers a shocking double life—a second family, complete with a wife and teenage daughter.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. There’s something magical about gathering the people you love the most, laughing over turkey and stuffing and spilled gravy, and sharing stories that never seem to grow old.
This year, my family decided to try something a little different: a phone game we’d seen in a movie.
A Thanksgiving dinner | Source: Midjourney
The rules were simple.
Everyone placed their phones in the center of the table, and whenever one buzzed, the person whose turn it was would answer or read the message aloud. It sounded harmless and hilarious, and you know, just a way to spice up the evening.
My husband, Emmett, and I have been married for 25 years. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair and a charming smile that’s disarmed me since the day we met on our college campus.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I’ve been a little plain compared to him, with my curly brown hair that rarely cooperates and a fondness for sweaters that my kids tease me about.
Emmett, with his tailored shirts and polished shoes, always seemed to be the one who turned heads.
That night, the table was buzzing with energy as we piled our phones into the center and took turns reading texts aloud. When Emmett’s phone buzzed during my turn, I grabbed it with a laugh, expecting something mundane, like a work email or a reminder about a bill.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Instead, the screen displayed a message that made my blood run cold.
Don’t forget, on Thursday, we’re moving Eliza’s things for her performance. Excited for our daughter’s premiere, Em!
I froze.
Daughter?
A lit screen on a phone | Source: Midjourney
We didn’t have a daughter named Eliza. There was no performance on Thursday, nor any premieres that I knew of. I stared at the message, my stomach churning.
But everyone was watching, waiting for me to share the text. My palms were sweating, and my pulse was racing. I wanted to scream.
Thinking fast, I scrolled to an older, innocuous text about a phone bill and read it aloud instead.
A woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“Looks like we need to update the plan on this number, babe,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Damn, I was hoping Emmett would get something juicy!” his brother, Jacob, laughed.
The table laughed together for a moment, and the game continued, but I was spiraling inside.
A man sitting at a table and laughing | Source: Midjourney
Why would Emmett be so careless? I remembered him fumbling with his phone earlier, mumbling something about needing to call a client.
“I’ll be back in a second, Mary. I just need to sort this out quickly—it’s about a meeting for next week. Plate up for the kids though,” he had said.
At the time, I hadn’t thought twice. Maybe he’d been too distracted to realize how risky this game was.
A man using his phone | Source: Midjourney
That night, I barely slept. Every single time I closed my eyes, I saw the words from that text.
Daughter? Performance?
My mind raced with so many questions. Who was Eliza? What was Emmett hiding?
Who was Emmett hiding?
And why?
A woman laying in bed | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, while Emmett was out walking Lila, our dog, before heading off to work, I found the address attached to the follow-up text message. It was all the details about the performance.
Picking up my notebook, I took down the address and the number belonging to a woman named Alice.
Then, I got into my car and punched it in. According to my GPS, the address led to a school theater in a nearby town. I didn’t want to drive there — not yet.
A notebook and phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
But soon, I’d know the truth. Thursday would come. Soon.
Instead, I went to work.
I felt beyond ridiculous pulling into the parking lot on Thursday evening, but curiosity and suspicion firmly had their claws in me. Inside the theater, the dim lights illuminated a stage where a teenage girl, around 16, was performing a ballet solo.
A girl performing a ballet routine | Source: Midjourney
She had long, dark hair tied back in a neat bun, and her confidence radiated from the stage.
My breath caught when the music stopped, and she bowed. She looked just like Emmett.
In the audience, I spotted him sitting beside a woman holding a bouquet of flowers. They both looked proud, their smiles glowing as they watched their girl perform.
As if I could hear it, my heart cracked open in my chest.
A woman holding a bouquet of roses | Source: Midjourney
When the performance ended and Emmett stepped away, I forced myself to approach the woman. My legs felt like lead, but my voice was steady when I spoke.
“Hello, I’m Emmett’s wife, Mary,” I said.
Her face went pale immediately, the color drained from her face before I could blink.
“Excuse me, what?” she gasped.
A woman holding a bouquet of roses | Source: Midjourney
It turns out that this was Alice, and she and Emmett had been married for 20 years.
20 years.
She had no idea about me or our family.
“He told me that work was demanding, Mary. He made it known when we met years ago. I didn’t question it because a job is a job, and it’s important, you know? I also wasn’t working at the time, so Emmett was supporting me. How could I question his job when I didn’t have one?”
I was silent for a moment.
A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney
“He said that the holidays were the worst for him. I never thought to question it.”
Neither had I.
Whenever Emmett mentioned work or business meetings, I didn’t ask anything beyond where he was staying and when he’d be back. Then, I would help him pack his clothes and pack enough snacks for his trip.
Look at my life now…
Containers of food on a counter | Source: Midjourney
The next day, Alice and I met at a coffee shop. We pieced together Emmett’s double life over matcha lattes neither of us finished.
We learned that he had been moving Alice and their daughter, Eliza, closer to his “primary residence” while claiming work required him to travel frequently.
He’d built two entire lives — one with me and our three children, and another with Alice and Eliza.
Lattes on a table | Source: Midjourney
Alice was petite with short, caramel-colored hair and kind eyes, but there was an edge of hurt and anger in her gaze that mirrored my own.
I could see her hesitation when we first sat down, as if she wasn’t sure whether to trust me.
“I almost didn’t come, Mary,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure if you were part of this… scheme. I know it sounds so bad, but nothing feels real anymore.”
A woman sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
I sighed, nodding.
“I understand exactly what you mean,” I said. “But trust me, I’ve been in the dark as much as you… Do you know that last night, when I sat across from him at dinner, he looked so unfamiliar? It was like I hadn’t seen him before.”
She nodded.
“But I think we both deserve answers and justice.”
A woman sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
She nodded again, and from that moment, Alice and I were allies.
Over the next few weeks, Alice and I stayed in touch, sharing more details and uncovering more lies than we had ever thought possible.
We realized that we weren’t just two victims of Emmett’s deceit — we were the heads of two families connected by his betrayal.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“The most difficult part is coming, Mary,” Alice told me on the phone one day.
“I know. Telling the kids is going to be… devastating.”
And sure enough, getting our kids involved was the hardest part. My grown children — Mark, 23, Cami, 21, and Jenelle, 18 — were furious and confused.
Jenelle cried for days; suddenly, she wasn’t the last born. Suddenly, she wasn’t the apple of her father’s eye.
An upset girl | Source: Midjourney
Mark paced the living room, constantly cursing Emmett’s name. Cami was the only one who remained nonchalant.
“What do you want me to say, Mom?” she asked when I went into her bedroom to check on her. “The others have always been closer to Dad. I’m just the middle child.”
“I want you to tell me how you feel, darling,” I said.
An angry young man | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t… care. It’s disgusting that he did this to you and Alice. What self-respecting man does this to two women? Two families? I don’t care what he does, but he’s not my father anymore.”
Alice’s daughter, Eliza, was blindsided, and her teenage world came crumbling down at her feet. It turned out that she and Emmett were really close. She couldn’t take the heartbreak when she discovered the truth.
Eventually, after long conversations and reassurances, we convinced the kids to join us for a joint “celebration” under the guise of blending families.
A nonchalant young woman | Source: Midjourney
Emmett arrived at the restaurant, unaware of what awaited him. When he stepped into the room, his confident stride faltered. His face twisted as his gaze darted between me, Alice, and our children, all standing together.
“Your deceit ends today, Emmett. We all deserve better. You’re pathetic.”
Emmett stammered, his usual charisma failing him for once.
“I can… explain,” he began.
The interior of a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“No, you’re a horrible excuse for a father and husband, and we’re not interested in your excuses,” Mark said.
Emmett sputtered, attempting to spin a tale about “complicated feelings” and wanting to “keep everyone happy,” but the united strength of both families left him speechless.
In the weeks that followed, Alice and I worked together to untangle the mess Emmett left behind. We sought legal counsel to address any and all financial matters, ensuring our families’ futures were secure.
A lawyer sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
Unsurprisingly, Emmett tried to fight back. He claimed he’d acted out of love and that it was fine to love more than one person. But honestly, going the legal route was the best we could have done. His bank statements, travel logs, and more left him with little ground to stand on.
Ultimately, he slunk away, defeated.
My kids struggled to process the betrayal—Cami too, although she pretended she was fine. I spent many sleepless nights sitting on my window seat, questioning everything I thought I knew.
A man standing in a hallway with suitcases | Source: Midjourney
Therapy helped a bit, as did Alice’s support. Eliza and Jenelle worked through their pain together. Over time, Alice and I built a strong friendship — one silver lining in an otherwise dark cloud.
Our children, despite the strange circumstances, began forming sibling-like bonds. They leaned on each other, finding strength in their shared pain.
Thanksgiving will never be the same.
But we’ve created new traditions, ones rooted in honesty and mutual respect. Emmett’s betrayal shattered our families, but in the aftermath, we found something unexpected: a new family.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
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Greg thought he and Natalie had figured out the whole co-parenting thing — until a late-night phone call shattered that illusion with news he never saw coming.
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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