The morning began with a scream: Scooter was missing. There was not a single sign of him. By noon, panic had spread. But my worst fear wasn’t that he was missing. It was who he had found.
At my house, mornings were rarely quiet. They were filled with the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway, constant notifications from Veronica’s phone updating her followers, or the unmistakable thud of objects hitting the floor—courtesy of my cat, Bugsy, who thought gravity was just a challenge.
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But that day, I heard a scream.
“Mom! Dad!” Mia’s voice echoed through the house, filled with panic.
“Scooter is gone!”
The sound of groggy mumbling came from inside the room. A moment later, the door creaked open, and Veronica appeared. She squinted at Mia, her face half-lit by the faint glow of her phone screen.
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“Where could he have gone? Mia, it’s way too early for your spiritual visions.”
Mia’s nostrils flare. “I went to his room to get some water. He always keeps extra bottles so he doesn’t have to walk to the kitchen at night. But he’s not here.”
Greg stumbles forward, still half asleep. “He’s probably playing one of his detective games.”
“His notebook is still there. And he never leaves it behind.”
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This made my ears prick up.
Greg must have sensed the shift in energy because, for once, he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned and walked straight toward me.
I was exactly where he was waiting for me—curled in my chair, sipping my first coffee of the morning. I’d been awake for hours, lost in thought.
“I saw him last night,” I said, stirring my coffee. “He was running through the halls.”
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I set my cup down, staring at Greg with a firm gaze.
“The house is safe. He’s just hiding somewhere. He won’t be able to resist the smell of pancakes.”
That was my mistake—assuming that everything about Theo could be predicted. Breakfast came and went. Pancakes sizzled, coffee brewed, but no Scooter.
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By noon, the house was in chaos.
Greg rummaged through the closets like a man searching for lost treasure. Mia checked the attic twice, muttering something about “energy imprints” and “astral planes.”
Even Veronica put her phone down long enough to peek behind the furniture, as if Theo had suddenly shrunk to the size of a dust bunnies.
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I took a different approach, however, stepping outside and letting the crisp air wake me up better than my coffee ever could. That’s when I saw it. A small hole in the fence.
Barely noticeable if you don’t know where to look. The very one I’d never managed to fix. The one I’d left open on purpose so Bugsy could roam freely in the neighbor’s yard and trample his perfectly arranged flowerbeds.
I exhale slowly. My worst suspicions had just been confirmed.
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***
There were few things in this world I hated more than visiting Harold.
This man was unbearable. Always in his plaid shirts, making noise with his chainsaw or spraying his garden with chemicals, poisoning the air near my immaculate rose bushes.
An unspoken war had been raging between us for years. And at that moment, my grandson had willingly marched into enemy territory.
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I saw them sitting on his porch. Scooter and Harold were drinking tea and eating pancakes. Scooter, his mouth stuffed, listened to Harold with wide, fascinated eyes.
“…and that was my first insect collection,” Harold said, flipping through an old album. “I’d been collecting them since I was a Boy Scout.”
“This is amazing!” Scooter swallows a mouthful of pancakes. “Do you still collect them?”
“Of course, kiddo,” Harold said, sipping his tea. “But right now, I’m more interested in collecting souvenirs.”
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“Scooter!”
He flinched and quickly turned his head towards me.
“Grandma Vivi!”
“Home. Now.”
Harold chuckled. “Oh, come on, why the hostility? We were just having breakfast.”
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“He’s supposed to have breakfast with his family, not with…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “A strange man.”
Harold’s eyes sparkle with mischief.
“A stranger? Oh, Vivi. Isn’t it time you finally told them the truth? They have the right to know.”
Theo froze. “What?! Another mystery?!”
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“Theo, come home. Now.” “Vivi, how much longer are you going to keep this a secret?”
I took a step closer and whistled under my breath.
“Not. A. word.”
Harold just smiled, slowly taking a sip of his tea.
I grabbed my grandson by the arm and pulled him back through the fence. I always knew this day would come. But not like this.
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***
“He had no right to bring up the past!” I shouted, bursting into the living room where my daughters were already gathered. Dolly, usually the first to launch into a drama, seemed hesitant for once.
“Vivi, it’s been years. Maybe it’s time to remove this burden from your soul and tell your family the truth?”
“Oh, really? Great! Then maybe you should tell the truth too? About your ‘mysterious admirer’?”
Margo, still calm, simply poured herself another coffee, glancing at me over her cup.
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“Although, come to think of it, Theo and Mia would probably appreciate meeting their…”
“That’s enough!” I interrupted her abruptly.
My friend should have known by now that I could read her thoughts before she even said them out loud.
“You’ve been drinking too much coffee. At your age, liters of caffeine and a healthy heart don’t mix.”
I smiled, then turned back to Dolly.
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“And you, the woman who buys herself flowers and convinces everyone they’re from a secret admirer… are you both really in a position to tell me what to do?”
“That was cruel, Vivi!”
“The truth always is.”
And that’s how we ended up arguing.
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I stepped into the garden, where the cool evening air did little to calm my thoughts. So much had changed in a few days. I had simply wanted my family to be reunited, yet their secrets forced me to set conditions on my will.
But did they all want to live with me? I exhale deeply. There was only one person who had always wanted to. And I had never allowed him to.
Then, as I was about to go back inside, I saw Harold.
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***
I stood there frozen. There, at my beautifully set table, right in the middle of my garden, sat Harold. He looked completely at ease, as if he’d always belonged there.
He had a plate full of my roasted vegetables, golden rolls, and signature tomato salad. He even poured himself a glass of my fresh juice. My favorite.
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And then, the final blow. Scooter, my beloved grandson, stood up from his chair and beamed.
“I invited him!”
I tilted my head towards him. “You what?”
“I invited Harold to dinner,” Scooter repeats.
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A silence fell around the table. All eyes turned to Harold, who, completely unperturbed, simply cut off a piece of roasted eggplant and took a slow, deliberate bite.
“Mmm,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “You always cook like a goddess, Vivi.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I opened it again. Still nothing. Belinda put her napkin on the table.
“Mom, how exactly are we supposed to understand this?”
Greg narrowed his eyes at Harold, then back at me.
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“Yes, I’d like an explanation too. Preferably before I have to find a therapist.”
Scooter, already clutching his notebook, looked between Harold and me like a cat that had just discovered an open can of tuna.
“So wait…” His pen skimmed across the page. “Who is he exactly?”
Harold leaned back, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Then, as if discussing the weather, he turned to Greg.
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“I am your father.”
A fork clattered onto a plate. Mia, usually the calmest person at the table, stared at me with wide eyes.
Greg let out a high-pitched laugh. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You heard me,” Harold said, holding out another roll. “I came for dinner with my grandchildren. And my son.”
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Silence.
“My what?”
Belinda inhales sharply.
“Are you saying that this…” she gestured towards Harold, “is our real father?”
I gritted my teeth.
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Veronica, who had been too busy mentally documenting the dinner for future content, suddenly sat up.
“Oh my God. This is incredible. Do you know how many people would die for a story like this? Family secrets, hidden fathers, lost grandfathers… Vivi, this is cinema.”
I slammed my fork down on my plate so hard that Bugsy slapped his tail and huffed before jumping off the chair and disappearing into the bushes.
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“Veronica, if a single second of this conversation ends up on your social media, I will personally send you on the longest digital detox of your life.”
She let out a dramatic sigh and placed her phone face down on the table. Greg finally exhaled and rubbed his face with both hands.
“Okay. That’s… a lot. That’s way too much information. I think I need a second.”
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Then, in the sweetest voice imaginable, Mia spoke again. “Grandma, what about our other grandfather? The one who passed away?”
That was it. The question I was dreading.
I felt the weight of all the decisions I’d made pressing down on me like a tight corset. I turned slowly to Harold, who, for once in his life, looked like he could keep his mouth shut.
“Not a word,” I whispered.
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“Vivi, maybe it’s time to stop running from the past.”
“And maybe it’s time for you to stop coming into my house uninvited.”
“You never locked the gate,” he said with a wink.
Greg raised a hand, as if trying to regain control of his reality.
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“Mom, I’m waiting. You wanted us all under the same roof, to play by your rules. But even you have limits. If you don’t tell us the truth right now…”
I knew what he was going to say before he even said it.
“We’ll pack our bags and leave.”
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I look around the table. Belinda, arms crossed, waited for answers. Greg, whose patience was wearing thin, waited for answers. Scooter, his pen resting on his notebook, waited for answers.
I had wanted to discover my family’s secrets, but I hadn’t expected to be the first to reveal mine. I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and exhaled. I had no choice but to face this situation.
This is how I began my story…
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If you liked the second part of the story, read the beginning: I gathered my family under one roof, hoping to spend time with them. But that night, I heard whispers behind closed doors—plots, hidden agendas, betrayals. So I set new terms for my inheritance that they couldn’t ignore. Read the full story here .
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