spnews2.store

My 18th birthday was a day I’ll never forget, not just because it marked my official transition into adulthood, but because it was the day I planned to reveal a surprise for my stepmom — one that I hoped would change her life in a way she never saw coming.

Have you ever felt like life is one long, unscripted drama, where every scene holds the potential to either break you or forge you into something stronger?

My life’s been a bit like that.

Navigating through the choppy waters of loss and new beginnings, I found myself at the helm of a decision that could either be the most heartwarming episode or a plot twist gone wrong.

My name is Sarah and this is the story of how my entry into adulthood became unforgettable for the most surprising reason.

After my mom passed away when I was just 11, life felt like an endless storm. My dad, lost in his own sea of grief, found a beacon of hope in a new woman and eventually remarried.

That’s how my stepmom, Olivia, came into my life, and she would become much more than just a new face in the house. She became a great source of stability for me, always offering love and support when I needed it.

At first, though, I wasn’t ready for her. I was too angry, too wrapped up in my grief to see her for who she was. I remember the day she moved in — I stayed locked in my room, listening to the muffled sounds of her unpacking, refusing to acknowledge that she was now a part of our lives.

I thought, How could my dad move on so quickly? How could he bring someone new into our home?

But contrary to my fears, Olivia never forced her way in. She gave me space, patiently waiting until I was ready to talk. And when I finally did, she was there, listening without judgment. One night, I had a nightmare about my mom. I woke up sobbing, drenched in sweat. Olivia heard me from the hallway and quietly opened my door.

“Sarah, sweetie, it’s okay. You’re safe,” she whispered as she sat beside me, her hand gently rubbing my back. I didn’t push her away. For the first time, I let her comfort me, and as she held me, I felt a small sliver of warmth amid the grief.

And just like that, Olivia and I became close. She never tried to take my mom’s place but filled our home with a light I thought we’d lost forever. “I’m here for you, always,” she’d tell me, her words a soothing balm for my aching heart.

But life had another curveball waiting. When we lost my dad, the silence in our home was deafening. I remember us sitting in the dimly lit living room, the air heavy with fear and uncertainty.

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I want you to know, I’m here for you. We’re family, no matter what.”

Her words were a lifeline in my sea of despair. “But everyone’s saying you’ll leave… go back to your family,” I mumbled, struggling to hold back tears. “Will I…will I go to an orphanage?”

It wasn’t just my fear of losing her. I’d overheard people whispering at the funeral: speculations about how Olivia would pack up and leave, how she had no reason to stay now that my dad was gone. The idea terrified me. I didn’t want to be alone again.

“No, sweetie. You’re not going anywhere and neither am I. Look at me,” she said, her hand finding mine in the darkness. She then cupped my face, planting a tender kiss on my forehead. “We’ll get through this together.”

For a moment, the heaviness in my chest lifted. Olivia’s presence had always been steady, like an anchor in the storm. She stayed by my side through every awkward family gathering where people looked at us with pity and through every sleepless night where grief threatened to swallow me whole. And slowly, I began to trust that she meant it when she said she wasn’t going anywhere.

And she was right. Despite the whispers and sideways glances from others, she stayed, proving that the bonds of the family we choose are as strong as those we are born into.

On the morning of my 18th birthday, the air was thick with anticipation, not just for the usual celebrations but for a surprise I had been planning for years.

Olivia greeted me with her warm, comforting smile, one that had often brightened my mood since the day she stepped into our lives.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she said, handing me a small, beautifully wrapped box. Her eyes sparkled with the love and care that had become her trademark.

I took the box, my hands shaking slightly. I wasn’t nervous about the gift inside — it was the gift I had for her that had my heart racing.

“Thank you,” I replied, my heart swelling with gratitude for this woman who had chosen to stand by me through everything. “I have a surprise for you too, but… you’ll need to pack your things.”

The look of confusion on her face was immediate. “Pack my things?” she echoed, the joy of the moment fading into uncertainty. “Are you… Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I want you to pack your things in the next hour. You’re leaving this house.”

Her laughter, light and disbelieving at first, died down as she saw the seriousness in my eyes. “But why, dear? I thought we were a family…” Her voice trailed off, a hint of despair creeping in.

I could feel my resolve wavering. The way her voice cracked, the pain in her eyes — it was more than I had anticipated. But I couldn’t back down. Not now. Not yet.

“It’s time,” I began, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. “I’ve been planning this since the day Dad died. You are going to another city.”

In a moment that felt more like a scene from a movie, I loaded her sparse belongings into the car and drove her to a new destination, all while she sat beside me in a silence that was heavy with confusion and sorrow.

The drive was a long and silent one, filled with unspoken questions and tension. I was the first to talk.

“You didn’t know that my father opened an account in my name when I was a child, where he saved money for my education. Since his death, I’ve also put all my money, from my part-time jobs and gifts, into this account. Now, there’s a large sum.”

Olivia turned to me, a mixture of pain and understanding in her eyes. “I understand. You’re an adult now, you have money and you don’t need me anymore. But why are you sending me so far away? You don’t want to see me at all?”

Her voice cracked, and the words felt like daggers in my chest. I had never imagined this moment would hurt so much.

As we pulled up in front of a quaint, beautiful house, the surprise I had been harboring was finally ready to be unveiled.

“I will be spending some of this money on education,” I continued, pointing to the house. “At an Ivy League university in the city, we’re in now, where I have already been accepted. Do you see this house?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice laden with confusion and a trace of hope.

“I bought this house for you,” I revealed, the tension finally breaking. “There was enough money for everything. Now I will study here and you will live next door. We won’t have to be apart, and if you want, you can go back to our old house at any time, or we can return together after I finish my studies.”

She sat in stunned silence for a long moment, her eyes locked on the house. “You… you bought this for me?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

The tears came then, unbidden and free, marking the moment with an emotional intensity that words could hardly capture. We hugged, our tears mingling, a testament to the depth of our bond and the love that had grown between us over the years.

“I love you, Sarah,” said Olivia, her voice barely a whisper but still audible.

“I love you, too,” I replied, reaching for the house keys in my bag and placing them in her hand.

It was a birthday unlike any other, marked not just by the receiving of gifts, but by the giving of a future, a home, and a promise of continued family, no matter what life might bring.

This was our story, a stepdaughter and her stepmom, navigating the complexities of life together, proving that love, indeed, knows no bounds.

As we stood there, holding onto each other in front of her new home, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I had done it: I had given back to the woman who had given me so much.

For the first time in years, I felt like I could truly breathe, knowing that we had a future, together.

Do you think my surprise was a good one?

While you’re busy thinking about the answer, here’s another story: I thought I was doing the right thing by not inviting Beth on our girls’ trip, but the second her voice cracked over the phone, I knew I had crossed a line. What began as a small omission quickly spiraled into something that would shake the foundations of our family. Click here to read the full story.

Working as a nurse, Zoe often relied on her mother-in-law, Denise, to babysit Leo, her son. But when the little boy becomes visibly shaken by his grandmother’s presence, Zoe has to question the old woman’s actions, only to discover that Denise has a hidden agenda.

I had always thought that my mother-in-law, Denise, was a little overbearing, but I chalked it up to her just being protective of my son, her only grandson, Leo.

She was one of those women who carried herself with a certain authority that made you straighten your back and rethink your words. This had become more pronounced when Jeremy, her husband, passed away a few years ago, allowing Denise to reclaim her role as head librarian of the local library.

“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked Andrew, my husband, one day. “I have time now, so there’s no need to just have my part-time role there. And I can have my book club meetings at the library, too.”

“Okay, Mom,” Andrew said. “You do whatever you want.”

She wasn’t mean, exactly, but Denise had a way of making you feel small without even trying. But still, she lived two roads away and was always willing to babysit Leo whenever I had a shift at the hospital, and considering Andrew’s unpredictable hours at the law firm, Denise usually had to step in often.

“It’s what grandmothers are for, right, Zoe?” she would say whenever I asked her to come over.

And despite how her moods could shift without a moment’s notice, she was reliable and didn’t complain about it once.

But lately, Leo had been acting strange whenever Denise came over. At first, it was small things. He would cling to my leg a little longer than usual when I tried to leave or hide behind the couch when he heard her car pull up in the driveway.

I thought that my son was just going through a phase, or maybe even a bit of separation anxiety. I had seen it all the time with the kids in my ward, especially when they woke up and their parents weren’t in sight.

But then, last week, right before I was about to leave for a night shift, he started crying.

“I don’t want Grandma to stay with me!” he blurted.

Big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and he clutched my scrub with a grip that seemed stronger than a grown man’s.

I knelt beside him, brushing a lock of his blonde hair from his forehead.

“But why, sweetheart?” I asked gently. “Grandma loves you. And she always brings you treats. Remember the brownies and ice cream from last week?”

My son’s eyes darted to the doorway as if expecting her to walk in at any moment.

“Because… Grandma acts strange,” he said, his eyes wide.

I was about to press him further because I needed to know what was going on. But moments later, Denise’s familiar, clipped footsteps echoed down the hallway. Leo bolted off to his room.

“What’s going on?” Denise asked as she set her purse down on the hallway table. “Where’s my grandbaby?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “He ran to his room to play with his toys. Andrew is away for the next two days. He’s meeting with a client and running through a case.”

Denise nodded.

I left for work, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in my stomach. I spent the entire night running between patients and thinking about Leo’s words.

“Grandma acts strange.”

What did that even mean to a four-year-old?

When I got home the next morning, I found my son sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. His favorite cartoons were playing, but he wasn’t watching them. Instead, his eyes were red and puffy, like he had been crying all night.

“Leo?” I said slowly. “Did you sleep at all?”

He shook his head.

“No, Mommy,” he said. “I stayed up. I didn’t want to sleep.”

“Why not?” I asked, even though I could already feel my heart sinking.

I pulled one of the blankets under the coffee table and wrapped Leo in it, hoping if he felt safer, he would talk.

“Because Grandma scares me,” he said, his hands clutching his teddy bear tightly.

I felt a wave of panic wash over me.

“Scares you? What happened, honey? What did Grandma say or do?”

“She keeps trying to put something into my mouth,” he said. “She chases me with it, and it’s scary.”

“What is she trying to put into your mouth, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice tight as I strained to show my emotions.

Leo hesitated.

“Cotton buds,” he said. “You know, what you clean my ears with? She said that she wants to put my spit in the tube. I don’t like it. I don’t want it.”

My blood ran cold. Ever since Leo’s accident a few months ago, where he fell off his bike and landed himself with a broken arm, he’s been terrified of doctors, needles, and anything that reminded him of his time in the hospital.

The thought of Denise running around the house with a cotton swab and a test tube made my blood boil. Why was she trying to get my son to take a DNA test?

“Where’s Grandma?” I asked Leo.

“In the guest room,” he said.

I marched to the guest room and found Denise sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the screaming match that was about to come. Without hesitation, I shook her awake.

“Wake up, we need to talk,” I said.

“What’s going on?” she asked, blinking away her sleep.

“Leo just told me that you’ve been trying to swab his mouth for a test? Why are you traumatizing my son? Why do you want him to have a DNA test?” I demanded.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she was going to deny it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up. “I didn’t mean to frighten Leo. I’ve just been wondering about something…”

“What? What would possibly be so important that you’d do this behind my back?”

“His hair,” she said simply. “Nobody has had blonde hair like that.”

“You think that my son isn’t Andrew’s because of his hair color?” I asked.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s been gnawing at me. I just needed to know, but I didn’t want to accuse you…”

“I can’t believe that you would go to such lengths, Denise.”

“I didn’t know what to think. I’m sorry, Zoe,” she said.

“Please leave, Denise,” I said. “I need time to process this. And I need to focus on Leo.”

She nodded, looking defeated.

Over the next week, things were tense between Andrew and me. While she drove home on the day of the confrontation, she had phoned Andrew and told him everything, firmly securing some seeds of doubt.

“I think we should do the test,” he quietly said one day, not meeting my eyes.

I stared at him, hurt.

“You really think that’s necessary? You believe what your mother is implying?”

“It’s not that I believe it,” he said. “But if we do the test, we can put this all to rest. No more doubts, no more accusations. What if Leo was switched at birth?”

“I had a home birth!” I exclaimed. “You would have remembered if you were here and not in court.”

I sighed.

“Alright,” I said after a moment. “I’ll do the test for Leo, but on one condition.”

“What condition?” he asked.

“If I’m going to do this to prove our son is yours, then you’re going to do a test too. To prove that your father is really your father. Denise needs to know what this feels like.”

Andrew’s eyes widened, shock registering on his face from my request. “What? Why would you even suggest that?”

I could feel his brain overthinking it, but I also knew that he was trying to view the situation from my point of view.

I leaned forward, my voice firm, “Because your mother is the one who’s throwing accusations around. If she’s so obsessed with bloodlines, then maybe she should be sure of her own. So, if you want me to take a test, then you’re going to take one too.”

Andrew hesitated, clearly taken aback by my demand. But after a moment, he nodded. “Okay. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.”

A few days later, the test results came back. As expected, the test confirmed that Leo was indeed Andrew’s son.

But there was also another revelation that nobody saw coming.

It turned out that the test results for Andrew showed that his biological father wasn’t the man he had called Dad his entire life.

“What the hell, Zoe?” he said out loud.

“This is a conversation for you and your mother,” I said offhandedly.

As much as I wanted to know the truth and to know about Leo’s biological grandfather, I didn’t want to get caught up in Denise’s drama any further. No, thank you. I had a son to focus on. And there was just something about how Denise acted that I wasn’t going to forgive soon.

But eventually, my curiosity gave in and I asked Andrew about his conversation with his mother. It turned out that she had an affair in her youth, resulting in Andrew.

“She said that she had always suspected it, but she didn’t dare do a DNA test while my father was alive. Just imagine, I’ve gone my entire life thinking that my father was just that, my father. But he wasn’t, not biologically. I can’t forgive her, Zoe.”

My heart broke for him.

“So, what does this mean?” I asked.

“It means that we take our time and space away from my mother. And we focus on our son. She’s the one who betrayed our family. Not us,” he said.

I nodded, ready to move on and focus on our family.

Apparently, Denise’s guilt had eaten away at her for decades, leading her to project her insecurities onto me and our son.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

My MIL Intentionally Sent Me Faded Flowers for My Birthday with a Nasty Note

Emily has always had issues with Denise, her mother-in-law. But when her birthday rolls around and her husband, Evan, has to go away on a business trip, Emily is left to entertain herself. Denise, on the other hand, takes matters into her own hands and gives her daughter-in-law a horrible birthday gift.

I know we all have problematic mother-in-law stories, but my goodness. I’ve been dealing with Denise for well over five years now. My husband, Evan, and I come from very different backgrounds, which were the first ingredients for a disaster.

Evan grew up in an affluent suburb, while I was raised by a single mom in a rough neighborhood where clothing was stolen straight off the line.

And to make it even worse for Denise? I’m a mixed-race woman, which Denise always looked down on.

“You definitely get your hair from your mother, then,” she would say to annoy me.

Despite Evan’s love and constant defense of me, Denise never missed a chance to remind him that he could’ve done better.

“I’ll bet you a spa day, Emily,” Evan told me one day as we were driving to his mother’s house for dinner. “She’s going to mention something about an ex-girlfriend or about me having done better.”

“You’re on,” I said.

Naturally, he was correct because not even fifteen minutes into the dinner, Denise was talking about an ex.

Walter returns home from work to find his baby son crying. His wife has tried everything to quiet their son, but nothing works. Walter decides to check the crib and is shocked by what he finds there.

An ear-splitting wail echoed through the house as Walter entered from the garage. His wife, Abby, sat in the kitchen, and by the distressed look on her face, he knew Logan’s cries were bothering her again.

“Oh, honey,” he says and hugs her from behind. “How long has he been crying like that?”

“I’ve tried everything, Walter!” Abby broke down into sobs. “He’s been fed, changed, bathed, and burped! I even took his temperature! I don’t know what to do now. He keeps crying!”

After becoming parents a month ago, everything in the couple’s lives changed. And if there was something that really distressed Walter, it was Logan’s cries.

“Come, we’ll figure this out together,” Walter said and took Abby to Logan’s room.

He cheerfully approached Logan’s crib. But all he saw in the crib was a dictaphone and a note. Walter pressed the stop button on the dictaphone, and Logan’s cries stopped.

“What did you do?” Abby called from behind. Walter wasn’t listening. He held the note and zoned out. It wasn’t until Abby snatched the note from his hand and opened it that he realized what had occurred.

“I warned you that you’d regret being rude to me.

If you want to see your baby again, leave $200,000 in the luggage storage lockers near the pier.

If you go to the police, you’ll never see him again.”

“Oh my God!” Abby gasped. “What does it mean? Was I rude to someone? Were you? Who would kidnap Logan?”

Walter recalled the janitor he’d mistreated at the maternity hospital. He was bringing a cute bear-shaped pot for Abby while she was admitted to the hospital, but the pot broke when he tripped over the janitor’s broom.

Furious, Walter called the man awful names, and the janitor said, “You’ll regret it!”

“We’ll have to go to the police, honey,” Walter said, snapping out of his thoughts. “It must be him!”

“What? The note says we’ll never see Logan again if we go to the police, Walter. We should just pay the ransom!”

“We don’t know if he’ll return Logan if we do that. Think about it, honey. This guy is a janitor… there’s no way he’d know if we went to the police, and since we know where he works, they might be able to go straight to the maternity hospital, arrest him, and bring Logan home to us.”

Abby agreed.

Walter parked their car outside the station. He and Abby were about to exit the vehicle when Walter’s phone buzzed with a message.

“This is your first and last warning. If you enter that police station, your kid’s going into the bay. Get the money to the location mentioned below.”

Abby gasped as she read the message, and Walter looked around, trying to spot the kidnapper. But there were too many people. The only way to rescue Logan now was to pay the ransom.

Walter decided to drive to the bank right away, but Abby’s condition deteriorated. She threw up once and was about to throw up for a second time. It was better to drive her home, Walter decided.

“Don’t hate me for it, honey, but that’s the best for you,” he said. And Abby didn’t protest.

“Fine…But Walter…does that kidnapper even know about caring for a newborn?” she asked and broke down into tears.

Walter said nothing and drove her home. But his imagination wasn’t immune to dark thoughts. He kept imagining Logan in a dark room, crying for help that never came.

Somehow pulling himself together, Walter drove to the bank. Then he visited the storage locker mentioned by the kidnapper and placed the money inside it.

There were too many people around for him to spot the janitor, but Walter knew he would be somewhere nearby, watching him. So Walter returned to his car, drove a short distance, and parked around the lockers again. It wasn’t long before he spotted the janitor from the maternity hospital.

The janitor opened the locker. Walter sat up straighter, but then a tourist group walked past, hiding the janitor from view.

“Move it!” Walter snapped.

Painful minutes stretched out as the tourists headed toward one of the statues. After the last few people in the group eventually passed the lockers, Walter swore. The janitor had disappeared.

Walter barely dared to breathe as he scanned the crowd. The man had been wearing the sort of flashy shirt sold in the more eclectic, hippie-themed stores, so he shouldn’t have been hard to spot.

There! A wave of relief washed over him as Walter spotted the janitor crossing the road. He was carrying the bag of money Walter had placed in the locker. Walter leaped from his car and followed him.

The man led him around a parking lot, past a variety of restaurants and several museums before he turned into a bus station. They were heading toward another row of lockers.

The janitor placed the bag inside a locker. When he turned around, Walter was ready. He shoved the janitor up against the lockers and held him there with his forearm.

“Where is my son?” Walter demanded. “I’ve done everything you asked, you jerk; now return Logan to me!”

“Look, I was offered $100 to collect the package and then drop it off here,” the man said. “I don’t know about your son!”

“Don’t you dare lie!”

“I’m not! Some guy paid me to deliver the package! I ran into him in the parking lot after work one day, but he was standing with the light behind him, so I didn’t see his face. I have two kids of my own. I’d never hurt someone else’s child.”

Something about the janitor’s eyes told Walter the older man wasn’t lying. He let the man go, then opened the locker. But it was empty. Somebody had cut a hole in the back.

Walter jogged around to the back of the lockers. The hole was covered from the back with a thin steel plate, loosely secured by two screws. Nobody around was carrying a bag like the one he’d placed the money into.

Walter didn’t know how to break the news to Abby. Logan was their miracle baby. They’d been struggling for years before they conceived him. And now, he had lost his only chance to get Logan back.

Walter entered his home. He checked all the rooms downstairs but didn’t find Abby anywhere. He went upstairs to check their bedroom and noticed Abby’s things were gone.

At first, Walter suspected she was kidnapped. He called her. Countless times. But she never answered. Then it dawned on him that the kidnapper wouldn’t have taken all of Abby’s things. Even her hand lotion was missing.

Walter was crushed, to say the least. How could Abby do this to them? No wonder she’d been so eager to return home after feeling sick. She had also insisted they pay the ransom. Abby was Logan’s kidnapper. Did she have an accomplice?

The only thing that consoled Walter’s heart was that the ransom money was fake. He would find a way to get his son back.

Walter drove to the maternity hospital where Logan was born, and near the vending machine, he found the man he was looking for—a doctor.

“Hi,” Walter approached him. “I hope you can help me. I need someone to call my wife—”

“I’m not a phone service,” the doctor replied sharply.

“You don’t understand. I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your assistance, doctor, and your silence.”

The doctor studied Walter through narrowed eyes. He slowly smiled as Walter explained his situation and told him what he wanted the doctor to tell Abby.

Walter then retrieved his wallet and furtively showed the doctor the dollar bills inside it. The man nodded. “Okay, we have a deal. Come with me!”

Walter followed the doctor to a nurse’s station on the second floor. All the nurses were checking on their patients, judging by the activity in the hallways. Nobody took much notice as the doctor lifted the phone and dialed Abby’s number.

“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor; this is Dr. Jones from the maternity hospital. I’m calling to inform you that we just discovered something very serious in one of the routine tests we performed on your son after he was born. He needs to come in for treatment immediately.”

Walter heard Abby’s emotional outcry from the other side of the nurse’s station but couldn’t make out her exact words.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss the details over the phone. All I can say for now is that he has a rare genetic condition. I’m sure he does seem fine now, but that could change at any moment. He’s at a higher risk for SIDS and several other life-threatening conditions. You really need to bring him in today, Mrs. Taylor.”

Dr. Jones ended the call a few minutes later and showed Walter a thumbs-up.

“She’s going to bring the baby in ASAP.” Dr. Jones held out his hand and wriggled his fingers. “I did my bit. Now it’s time for you to pay up.”

Walter paid the doctor and went back downstairs. He wandered around for a few minutes before his phone started ringing. His lip curled in disgust when he checked the caller ID.

“You have some nerve to phone me after what you did, Abby,” Walter said. “Where’s Logan? I demand you bring him back.”

“Says the man who doesn’t even care enough about him to pay the ransom!” Abby shrieked. “That money was all fake, you tight-fisted jerk. Logan needs to see a doctor urgently, and I can’t take him because of you. Where’s the real money, Walter?”

“In my account, where it’s been all along. What’s wrong with Logan, or is this just another scheme to get my money?”

Abby swore at him and began to cry. “I told you; he’s sick! You’ve got to send me the money so he can receive treatment. He’ll die without it.”

“I won’t let my son die! I’ll pay,” Walter replied and hung up.

Hearing Abby confirm she was behind Logan’s kidnapping broke his heart all over again. It took a few minutes before he pulled himself together enough to send her an immediate payment via his money transfer app. Now, all he had to do was wait.

***

Tears trailed down Walter’s cheeks when his little brother, James, entered the hospital with Abby. James held Logan against his chest while Abby spoke to the receptionist.

It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion as the police officers and FBI agents came forward and surrounded Abby and James. Walter had informed the cops beforehand.

“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” an FBI agent called out. “Hand the child over, nice and slowly, and raise your hands.”

“Get away from us!” Abby shrieked as she moved to stand between the FBI agent and Logan. “My son is sick. He needs to see a doctor.”

“No, he isn’t,” Walter called out as he approached the group. “There’s nothing wrong with Logan at all.”

Abby’s gaze locked onto him. Walter watched as the fear and uncertainty in her eyes shifted into red-hot fury. She rushed forward as though to attack him. But the police tackled her. She and James were arrested.

Walter hugged his son, relieved to have him back. But Abby wasn’t done yet.

“You think you’ve won? Logan isn’t even yours! You couldn’t get me pregnant, remember? But whatever’s wrong with you clearly doesn’t run in the family!” she yelled.

Walter froze. He looked at his brother, who wouldn’t even raise his head to look at him. It pained Walter. But nothing mattered because he had Logan with him.

“I will adopt him if that’s what I have to do!” he shot back. “I will watch him grow up while you two rot behind bars!” he said and left with Logan.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who spots her husband taking his wedding ring off before leaving for work. She decides to follow him, only to discover something shocking.