When a grouchy old man slams the door on a persistent teen, he thinks he’s rid of her for good. But when a hurricane traps them together, the storm outside reveals the truth about her shocking connection to his past.
Frank had lived alone for many years. The quiet suited him, and he’d long accepted the absence of friends or family in his life. So, when he heard a knock at the door one Saturday morning, he was startled but more annoyed than curious.
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With a heavy groan, he pushed himself out of his recliner. When he opened the door, he saw a teenage girl standing on the porch, no older than sixteen.
Before she could speak, Frank snapped, “I don’t want to buy anything, I don’t want to join any church, I don’t support homeless kids or kittens, and I’m not interested in environmental issues.” Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut.
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He turned to leave but froze when the doorbell rang again. With a sigh, he shuffled back to his chair, grabbed the remote, and turned up the TV volume.
The weather report showed a hurricane warning for the city. Frank glanced at it briefly, then shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he mumbled. His basement was built to withstand anything.
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The doorbell didn’t stop. It kept ringing, over and over. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Each ring grated on Frank’s nerves. Finally, he stomped back to the door, muttering to himself. He flung it open with a scowl.
“What?! What do you want?!” he barked, his voice echoing down the quiet street.
The girl stood there, calm, her eyes fixed on him. “You’re Frank, right? I need to talk to you,” she said.
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Frank narrowed his eyes. “Let’s say I am. Who are you, and why are you on my porch? Where are your parents?”
“My name is Zoe. My mom died recently. I don’t have any parents now,” she said, her voice steady.
“I couldn’t care less,” Frank snapped. He grabbed the edge of the door and started to push it closed.
Before it could shut, Zoe pressed her hand against it. “Aren’t you curious why I’m here?” she asked, her tone unwavering.
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“The only thing I’m curious about,” Frank growled, “is how long it’ll take you to leave my property and never come back!” He shoved her hand off the door and slammed it so hard the frame rattled.
The doorbell stopped. Frank peered through the curtains, checking the yard. It was empty.
With a deep sigh, he turned away, feeling victorious. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of his nightmare.
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The next morning, Frank woke up, grumbling as he dragged himself to the front door to grab his newspaper.
His jaw dropped when he saw the state of his house. Smashed eggs dripped down the walls, their sticky residue glinting in the sunlight.
Large, crude words were scrawled across the paint in messy black letters, making his blood boil.
“What in the world?!” he shouted, looking around the street, but it was empty.
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Grinding his teeth, he stormed back inside, grabbed his cleaning supplies, and spent the entire day scrubbing.
His hands ached, his back throbbed, and he swore under his breath with every stroke.
By evening, exhausted but relieved to see the walls clean, he stepped onto his porch with a cup of tea.
But his relief was short-lived. Garbage was scattered across his yard—cans, old food, and torn papers littered the lawn.
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“Stupid girl!” he shouted at no one in particular, his voice echoing through the quiet neighborhood.
He stomped down the steps, grabbed some trash bags, and began cleaning. As he bent to pick up a rotten tomato, his eyes caught a note taped to his mailbox.
He yanked it off and read aloud, “Just listen to me, and I’ll stop bothering you. —Zoe.” At the bottom, scrawled in bold numbers, was a phone number.
Frank crumpled the note and hurled it into the trash.
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The next morning, loud shouting woke him. He looked outside to see a group of people waving signs.
“Who the hell are you?!” he yelled, opening the window.
“We’re here for the environment! Thanks for letting us use your yard!” a hippie-looking woman called.
Fuming, Frank grabbed a broom and chased them off. Once they were gone, he noticed a caricature of himself drawn on the driveway with the caption, “I hate everyone.”
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On his front door was another note:
“Just listen to me, or I’ll come up with more ways to annoy you.
—Zoe.
P.S. The paint doesn’t wash off.”
And again at the bottom was a phone number.
Frank stormed inside, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed the phone and dialed Zoe’s number with shaking hands. “Come to my house. Now,” he barked and hung up before she could respond.
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When Zoe arrived, her jaw dropped. Two police officers stood on the porch beside Frank, their expressions serious.
“What the—? Are you kidding me?!” Zoe shouted, glaring at him.
Frank folded his arms and smirked. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Guess what? You’re not.”
The officers cuffed Zoe. “You old jerk!” she yelled as they led her to the car. Frank watched, smug, believing this was the end of his troubles.
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The next day, the city issued a hurricane warning. The winds howled, bending trees and tossing debris down the empty streets.
Frank looked out the window as he prepared to head for his basement. His eyes widened when he spotted Zoe outside, clutching her backpack and stumbling against the wind.
“What are you doing out there?!” Frank shouted, flinging open the door. The wind nearly tore it from his hand.
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Zoe turned, her hair whipping around her face. “What does it look like?! I’m looking for shelter!” she yelled, her voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “I have nowhere else to go!”
“Then come inside!” Frank barked, stepping onto the porch.
“No way!” Zoe snapped. “I’d rather face this hurricane than go in your house!”
Frank gritted his teeth. “You were desperate to talk to me yesterday. What changed now?”
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“I realized you’re a selfish, grumpy idiot!” Zoe shot back.
Frank had enough. He stomped down the steps, grabbed her backpack, and hauled her toward the door.
“Let me go!” Zoe screamed, twisting against his grip. “I’m not going with you! Let me go!”
“Are you out of your mind?!” Frank bellowed, slamming the door behind them. “Stay out there, and you’ll die!”
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“Maybe that’s fine! I have nothing left anyway! ” Zoe yelled, her face red. “And do you think your stupid house is some kind of fortress?!”
“My basement is fortified,” Frank growled. “It’s survived worse than this. Follow me.”
Zoe glared at him but hesitated. After a moment, she sighed and trudged after him toward the basement.
The basement was surprisingly cozy. It looked like a small, well-used living room. A single bed sat tucked in one corner, with shelves of old books lining the walls.
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A pile of paintings leaned against the far side, their colors muted by age. Zoe glanced around, unimpressed, then dropped onto the couch with a loud sigh.
“You wanted to say something? Now’s your chance,” Frank said, standing stiffly near the stairs.
“Now you’re ready to listen?” Zoe asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We’re stuck here for who knows how long. Might as well get it over with,” Frank replied, leaning against a shelf and folding his arms.
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“Fine,” Zoe said. She reached into her backpack, pulled out some folded papers, and handed them to him.
Frank frowned as he took them. “What’s this?”
“My emancipation papers,” Zoe said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Frank blinked. “What?”
“It’s so I can live on my own,” Zoe explained. “Without parents. Without guardians.”
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“How old are you?” Frank asked, squinting at the documents.
“Sixteen… almost,” Zoe replied, her voice firm.
“And why do you need my signature?” Frank asked, looking at her sharply.
Zoe met his eyes without hesitation. “Because you’re my only living relative. I’m your granddaughter. Remember your wife? Your daughter?”
Frank’s face paled. “That’s impossible.”
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“It’s very possible,” Zoe said with a cold laugh. “Social services gave me your address. When Grandma talked about you, I thought she was exaggerating. Now I see she didn’t tell me half of it.”
“I’m not signing this. You’re still a child. The system can take care of you.”
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“You’re joking, right?” Zoe snapped. “You were a terrible father and husband! You left Grandma and Mom to chase some fantasy about painting. Your art isn’t even good—I was better at five! And now, after all that, you won’t even sign a piece of paper to help me?”
Frank’s hands clenched. “It was my dream to be an artist!” he shouted.
“It was my dream too!” Zoe shot back. “But Grandma’s gone. Mom’s gone. And you’re the only family I have. You’re also the worst person I’ve ever met!”
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They sat in silence after that, the tension heavy in the room. Frank knew Zoe was right. He had been selfish. Back then, he had seen only his art, blind to everything else.
After two hours, Frank finally spoke. “Do you even have a place to stay?”
“I’m working on it,” Zoe muttered. “I’ve got a job. I still have Mom’s car. I can manage.”
“You should be in school, not figuring out how to survive,” Frank said.
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“Life doesn’t work out the way we want,” Zoe replied, her voice soft but firm.
For the next few hours, Frank sat silently, watching Zoe sketch in her notebook. Her pencil moved with confidence, every stroke purposeful.
He hated to admit it, but her art was bold, creative, and alive. It was far better than anything he had ever painted.
The radio crackled to life, its monotone voice announcing the hurricane had passed. The storm was over.
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Frank stood, his joints stiff, and gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s go up,” he said. Once upstairs, he glanced at Zoe and handed her the signed documents without a word.
“You were right,” he said, his voice low. “I was a terrible husband. A lousy father too. I can’t change any of that. But maybe I can help change someone’s future.”
Zoe stared at the papers for a moment, then slipped them into her backpack. “Thanks,” she said quietly.
Frank looked at her and nodded. “Don’t stop painting. You’ve got talent.”
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Zoe slung the bag over her shoulder. “Life decided otherwise,” she said, heading for the door.
“You can stay here,” Frank said suddenly.
Zoe froze. “What?”
“You can live here,” Frank said. “I can’t undo my mistakes, but I also can’t throw my own granddaughter out on the street.”
“Do you really want me to stay?” Zoe asked.
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“Not exactly,” Frank admitted. “But I think we might both learn something.”
Zoe smirked. “Fine. Thanks. But I’m taking all your art supplies. I’m way better than you.”
She turned toward the basement. Frank shook his head. “Stubborn and arrogant. You get that from me.”
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Woman Hated Her Mother-in-Law Until One Day When Her Life Was Turned Upside Down — Story of the Day
Mary’s marriage to Ed came with a price: his mother Scarlett who never hid her disdain. From wedding-day insults to constant criticism, Scarlett seemed set on making Mary’s life difficult. Tensions grew with each visit… until something even more shocking unfolded.
Mary and her husband, Ed, drove in silence toward his mother Scarlett’s house. Though they hadn’t arrived yet, Mary was already looking forward to the ride back. Scarlett, after all, simply despised her.
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At their wedding, Scarlett had even shown up wearing a veil; Mary had been grateful she hadn’t arrived in a full wedding dress. Scarlett was one of those mothers who couldn’t let go of her “little boy,” no matter how grown-up he was.
As they pulled into the driveway, Mary reluctantly stepped out, trailing behind Ed. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever latest insult Scarlett had in store.
Forcing a smile, she braced herself, hoping her expression would carry her through this visit. Scarlett opened the door with a wide grin and immediately wrapped her arms around Ed.
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“Oh, my baby! You’re finally here! I’ve missed you more than you know!” she exclaimed, holding him close.
“Mom, it’s only been a week,” Ed replied, easing himself out of her hug.
Scarlett gave Ed a brief look before turning her gaze to Mary, her expression shifting. “Well, Mary, I see you’ve gained a few pounds,” she said with a smirk.
Mary let out a quiet sigh, resisting the urge to respond. She forced a tight smile instead. “Good to see you too, Scarlett.”
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Dinner felt endless as Scarlett launched into her usual list of complaints. “Mary doesn’t know how to cook. She doesn’t work somewhere respectable. She doesn’t even know how to dress herself properly,” Scarlett declared, taking quick glances at Ed for support.
Mary gripped her fork tightly, biting her tongue. She knew any response would just add fuel to Scarlett’s fire. But then Scarlett said something that made Mary’s patience snap—words sharper than anything before.
Scarlett looked across the table, her eyes fixed on Mary. “Well,” she said slowly, “I think it’s high time you gave me a grandchild. Or maybe,” she added with a smirk, “Mary has… some issues?”
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Mary’s heart sank. They had been trying for a baby for six months with no success, and Scarlett’s words stung like salt in a wound. “How dare you!” Mary burst out. “Stop meddling in our lives! Maybe it’s your son who has the problem!”
Scarlett leaned back, eyes narrowing. “That’s absurd! My son is perfectly healthy, thank you very much. But you, Mary… who knows what you were up to before meeting Eddie?”
Mary’s face flushed with anger. “You’re a damn witch!” she shouted, her voice trembling. She turned to Ed, who hadn’t said a word. “Are you just going to sit there and let her say this?”
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Scarlett shot her son a pointed look. “Yes, Eddie, tell your crazy wife to show some respect,” she said, her tone mocking.
Ed shrugged, still scrolling through his phone. “Work it out yourselves.”
Scarlett leaned toward Mary, her voice low. “My neighbor mentioned herbal teas. She swears they help people like you.”
Mary opened her mouth to retort but felt a sudden wave of nausea. She clenched her stomach, forcing the words out. “Why don’t you… drink your own tea?”
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Unable to hold it back, Mary bolted to the bathroom. When she returned, still pale, she looked at Ed. “I want to go home.”
“Okay,” he said, barely glancing up.
Scarlett tilted her head, a fake look of concern crossing her face. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “You probably poisoned me,” she muttered, too tired to argue further.
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On the way home, Mary’s mind raced. She had to know for sure. “Ed, can you stop at the pharmacy?” she asked quietly.
He sighed but pulled into the parking lot. She hurried inside, grabbed a pregnancy test, and paid quickly. Back at home, she went straight to the bathroom. She held her breath, waiting. Then, the results appeared—two lines. She gasped, feeling a rush of excitement and relief.
She rushed to show Ed, her face glowing. “Ed, we’re going to have a baby!”
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Ed glanced at the test, his expression unreadable. “Oh. That’s… good,” he mumbled, barely meeting her eyes.
Mary’s heart sank a little. She was overjoyed, but Ed’s reaction felt like a shadow over her happiness.
A few weeks had passed since Mary found out she was pregnant, and she was finally starting to adjust to the idea of becoming a mother. It was their first doctor’s appointment, and she was sitting on the bed, waiting for Ed to finish his shower so they could leave together.
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She hoped he’d show some excitement, but he seemed distant lately, preoccupied and withdrawn
As she waited, Ed’s phone buzzed beside her, lighting up with a message. Usually, she respected his privacy. But the way he’d been acting made her hesitate.
Without fully realizing it, she reached for his phone. She tried to unlock it and was surprised to find a passcode. She couldn’t remember him ever using one before. On a whim, she tried his birth date. The screen unlocked immediately.
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The message stared back at her: a picture of a half-dressed woman, smiling in a way that made her stomach twist. Below the picture, a message read, “Can’t wait to see you, baby.”
Her hands trembled as she scrolled through the conversation, each word feeling like a fresh betrayal. Ed had told this woman he was wealthy, a construction company owner—a far cry from his real job.
Heart pounding, she took screenshots, saving them on her phone as evidence of his lies and deceit.
When Ed came out of the bathroom, she was waiting, holding his phone. Her face was pale, her eyes filled with hurt and anger.
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“What is this?!” she shouted, thrusting the phone toward him.
His expression turned hard, and he grabbed the phone from her hand. “None of your business,” he snapped.
Mary’s voice rose, filled with pain. “None of my business? You’re cheating on me! And I’m pregnant, Ed—your pregnant wife!”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’re the one cheating on me,” he shot back, a sneer forming on his face. “How do I even know this baby’s mine?”
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Mary felt her whole world spin. “Are you serious? We’ve been trying for six months. Now you’re saying this?” Her voice broke.
Ed crossed his arms. “Six months, no luck, and now all of a sudden it just happens? Convenient.”
“You’ve been seeing this woman for more than six months, Ed. I saw everything. You’ve lied to her, too! Told her you’re rich, that you own a company!” Mary’s voice trembled.
Ed shrugged, coldly unmoved. “Doesn’t matter. I’m filing for divorce. This marriage is over.”
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“You really think that woman will stick around when she learns the truth about you?” Mary shot back.
“Trust me, she won’t find out. And when this is over, I’ll take this house and everything else you have. Plus, my mom’s money.” He smirked.
Mary’s voice rose in protest. “This house was bought by my father!”
“Yeah? It’s in both our names,” Ed replied with a smug smile.
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Mary’s voice softened as she asked, “What about the baby?”
Ed just shrugged. “You can’t prove it’s mine until it’s born. By then, it’ll be too late.” And with that, he threw her out, leaving her in tears.
Desperate and hurt, Mary made a choice—to go to Scarlett and show her everything. Scarlett had to know the truth about her son.
She sat across from Scarlett, her heart pounding as she told her everything—Ed’s lies, his cheating, his threats to take the house. She held her breath, waiting for Scarlett to dismiss her. But to her surprise, she listened, her face growing pale.
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Scarlett looked down, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s been taking money from me too,” she said softly. “Every penny his father left me, everything I’ve saved. He said he needed it for doctor visits because you couldn’t get pregnant.”
Mary shook her head, feeling both anger and sadness. “He never even went to a doctor. Every time I brought it up, he refused. I checked our account, Scarlett. He’s been taking out huge amounts.”
Scarlett clenched her fists. “I can’t believe my son would do this,” she said, her voice shaking. “He lied to both of us.”
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Mary’s voice broke as she spoke. “I don’t know what to do. I’m pregnant, and he says he’ll take everything. He doesn’t even believe the baby is his.”
Scarlett’s eyes hardened. “I won’t let anyone hurt my future grandchild,” she said firmly. “We’ll make him pay. You have those messages saved, right?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, I took screenshots.”
Scarlett thought for a moment, then said, “I have one of his toothbrushes here. We can get a DNA test when the baby is born.”
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Mary looked at Scarlett, surprised. “You’ve never been on my side before. What changed?”
Scarlett sighed. “I was a mother trying to protect her son. But now I see I need to protect others from him. His father was the same—a cheater. I endured it, hoping Ed would be better. But he isn’t. And I don’t want anyone else to suffer like I did.”
Mary and Scarlett moved forward with their plan. Mary confronted Ed directly, and she showed him the screenshots of his messages.
“I have all your messages,” she said, her voice steady as she held up her phone. “And I’ve already shown them to Scarlett. So you have no more room to manipulate anyone.”
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Ed looked shaken, but Mary continued, not backing down. “Here’s the deal,” she told him firmly. “Give up your claim to the house, sign these divorce papers, and agree to pay child support. Do this, and I’ll stay quiet. Otherwise, I’ll make sure your lover knows the truth.”
Backed into a corner, Ed reluctantly agreed and signed the papers without a word. He had no idea that Scarlett had the final piece of the plan.
Scarlett went to Ed’s lover herself, revealing everything—his lies, his fake claims of wealth, and his deception. She left nothing hidden, ensuring her son’s lies would come crashing down.
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When Ed found out, Scarlett was sitting with Mary, enjoying tea at her house. Suddenly, loud banging echoed from the front door, followed by Ed’s furious shouting.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell if I did everything you asked!” he yelled through the door, his voice sharp with anger.
Mary looked at the door calmly and replied, “I didn’t tell her anything, Ed.”
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Scarlett raised her voice so Ed could hear. “I did,” she called out firmly. “I taught you that lying is wrong, but you clearly didn’t learn.”
“You’re both insane!” Ed shouted, his voice shaking with rage. “You’ll regret this! I’ll make you pay!”
Just then, the police arrived, alerted by a neighbor’s call. They restrained Ed, leading him away as he continued yelling threats, while Mary and Scarlett stayed inside, unshaken while finishing their tea.
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