I found a note in my daughter Lily’s backpack that read, “I’m your real dad. Come see me last Monday of September behind the school.” The words shook me. I had been Lily’s father her entire life, ever since my wife Kate, who passed away six years ago, gave birth to her. Could she have hidden something like this?
On that Monday, I parked near Lily’s school, watching as she walked toward a tall man behind the fence—Jeff, a former coworker who had recently been fired. He spoke softly, claiming to be Lily’s real father, saying Kate wanted her to know the truth. Furious, I confronted him, insisting he had no right to confuse my daughter like this. Jeff, calm but insistent, claimed Lily deserved the truth.
After digging into Jeff’s past, I discovered he was lying. He had a history of manipulation and had been fired for falsifying information. Relieved, I sat down with Lily and explained everything, promising that I’d always be her dad.
Days later, the police called to inform me that Jeff had been arrested for stalking another family. As I held Lily, I knew the ordeal had left scars, but we’d face the future together.
