My husband and I didn’t hesitate to step in when my son turned his back on his own daughter. Years later, a surprising demand at the worst possible moment poses more than just old wounds.
Sixteen years ago, my son, Tom, had a daughter named Ava with his now-ex-wife, Mia. My husband and I chose to help raise our granddaughter after her father disowned her. But we didn’t anticipate him wanting paternity when he explored how we wanted to provide for her future.
I adored Mia from the moment I met her. She possessed that spark, was intelligent, kind, and a touch crazy in her youth, gaining the nickname “party girl.”
She and Tom met in their junior year of college, when she had settled down more, and I honestly believed they had discovered something genuine.
Ava entered the picture not long after they married, and for a while, everything appeared perfect. I believed they would grow old together.
But people change. And not always for the best.
I am confused to say this about my own child, and I don’t know where I went wrong with him, but Tom cheated on Mia. I still remember the night she showed up at our door, trembling and holding Ava, who was just a baby at the time.
It was pouring rain, and she didn’t say anything at first. Just handed me Ava, sat on the porch swing, and cried. Tom had relocated Mia back to the United States months before the betrayal, and she had no one here save us.
So we did what any good parent would do. My husband Gary and I took them in.
Mia did not act entitled or spiteful. She offered to find a job to pay the rent, clean, cook, and do everything she could, but we declined. She was a family member. She still is.
Their divorce left me heartbroken, but Gary and I concentrated our efforts on assisting Mia in raising Ava in a secure and caring environment.
Tom, on the other hand, didn’t seem affected or bothered about what he’d done and moved on disturbingly fast.
But what truly broke my heart is that he ended up visiting Ava and stopped calling her. I begged him to stay in her life, but he nodded it off. He told us Mia had probably lied about Ava being his, and called her names I won’t repeat.
We didn’t tell Ava any of that back then. She was a quiet, observant little girl with Mia’s eyes and a mind as sharp as a tack. She loved puzzles, music, and clung to Gary like he hung the moon! He’d read her bedtime stories, take her to soccer games, and even taught her how to ride a bike when she was six.
They were great friends, and she deserved to have the father she lacked.
Tom and Lacey now have a four-year-old kid, whom he has begun to pay more attention to.
Then, two years ago, everything shifted.
Gary was diagnosed with lung can.cer. It sh0cked all of us, but especially Ava. She was 14, old enough to know what was coming. She attended every session and even shaved her head in solidarity when his hair began to come out due to treatment.
Tom never showed up. I swear, I have no idea how he became the way he is. No hospital visits, just a few brief phone conversations.
When I asked why he was so absent, he scoffed.
“You have other kids,” he said. “It’s not like Dad’s dying alone.”
I almost dropped the phone.
Now here we are.
She asked if he’d walk her down the aisle one day. He told her, “There’s no one else I’d be more proud to walk with.”
Then last week, Tom showed up, uninvited.
It was late, around 8 p.m., and Ava was upstairs doing homework. Mia was out visiting our neighbor, Chrissy, with whom she’d built a tight friendship.
My son knocked, holding a six-pack of beer, like it made things better.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, walking in without waiting for me to invite him.
“Tom,” I said, amazed. “What brings you here?”
Tom leaned forward, all business, getting straight to the point. “Look, I’m your firstborn son and should get more than my siblings.”
Gary’s face went white, and we exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Excuse me?” my husband said.
“We believe the inheritance should be split evenly, but my main focus is more on Ava and Diane (one of our other grandkids),” my husband said.
Tom looked surprised and angry. “She’s not even mine! And Tim is my only son, so he deserves to inherit more than Ava! Plus, Mia was a party girl before we got together. Everyone knew it!”
“Tom,” I snapped, “you need to stop.”
“She’s just a bastard,” he said louder, not bothered if his daughter could hear.
Gary stood up. I hadn’t seen him move that quickly in months. “You will not speak about her that way in my house!”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” Tom mocked. “You’re really going to leave my son with less so some random girl you pity can get a slice?!”
“She’s not some random girl,” Gary complained. “She’s your daughter, and she’s more of a human being than you’ve been in years!”
“Why don’t we settle this with a DNA test? You’re all so sure she’s mine. Let’s see it in writing.”
“Fine,” she said, standing in the hallway. Her hands were trembling. “Let’s do the test.”
Tom twinkled. “What?”
“You want a DNA test? Let’s do it. I want to know too. I’ve always wanted to know why you hated me. Maybe this’ll give me closure.”
Hearing the hurt in Ava’s voice finally led Gary to kick Tom out, as he shouted, “I am not going to include you in the inheritance anymore! I don’t know how you became such a vile person! Get out of my house!”
I took Ava’s hand and pulled her into a hug with Gary.
It took two weeks for the paternity test to come back from the lab after Tom handed over his DNA.
When the results arrived, we opened them, and I called Tom.
“Can you come over tonight?” I asked.
“Why?” he grumbled. “I’ve got work.”
“It’s about the will,” I said. “And Ava.”
That got him to unfold.
My son walked in like he owned the place, smiled smugly, and gave Mia a condescending nod before plopping onto the same couch he always did.
“So,” he said, “you came to your senses?”
I didn’t answer. I handed him the envelope.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s this? My share in the inheritance?”
“Just open it,” I said.
He tore it open, then looked at the paper. His lips moved as he read. He was sh0cked.
“‘Probability of paternity: 99.9999 percent.'” He looked up. “She’s mine?”
“Shocking, isn’t it, huh?” Ava said from the hallway.
My granddaughter strolled into the room, wearing jeans and a hoodie, her gaze fixed on her father.
“I used to cry, wondering what I did wrong,” she remarked gently. “Why my father despised me. Why did he forget my birthday and never attend my school plays? I figured if I got high grades or worked harder, you’d come around.”
Tom opened his mouth, but she held out her hand.
“I understand now. It never was about me. You left because you wanted to, not because of who I am. And now? “I don’t care anymore.”
Gary cleared his throat. “You asked about the inheritance. You will receive your portion. But Ava and Diane will be my primary concern.”
Tom mocked. “So you really are playing favorites.”
“No,” I said, standing tall. “We’re rewarding love and loyalty. Two things you’ve forgotten.”
He didn’t argue. He just sat there, silent, looking at Ava like he was seeing her for the first time.
Mia walked over and placed a hand on Ava’s shoulder. “You don’t need his approval,” she whispered.
“I know,” Ava said. “But it still felt good to say that.”
Tom left soon after with no dramatic goodbye. He just blurted out the door with the test results still clutched in his hand.
Later that night, Gary called Ava to his side.
“You were so brave,” he said.
“I just said what needed to be said.”
He smiled weakly. “You’re going to change the world someday.”
She hugged him gently, resting her head on his shoulder. “As long as I make you proud.”
“You already have,” he muttered. “A thousand times over.”
