My dad lied about everything because he wanted to live with his mistress. But I found out the shocking truth years later — and it happened during a random meeting with someone I thought was dead.
It all started when I was just eight years old. My mom got very sick and had to stay in the hospital. Dad would take me to visit her sometimes, but one day, everything changed. He came home with a heavy look on his face.
He sat me down and said in a soft, broken voice, “I’m sorry, Josh. Your mother is gone.”
Hearing those words crushed me. I cried my eyes out that whole night. I couldn’t imagine a world without her. But while I was still drowning in grief, Dad said something else that shocked me.
“We have to pack,” he told me.
“Where are we going?” I asked, wiping my tears.
He looked away for a second, then said, “We can’t stay here, not with all these memories of your mother. We need a fresh start if we’re ever going to heal.”
So, even though my heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces, I helped him pack. I kept crying as I stuffed clothes into boxes. A few hours later, we loaded everything into the car and drove away.
We drove for what felt like forever. I stared out the window, watching my old life disappear behind me. Finally, we pulled up to a new house. It didn’t look that different from the old one, but it didn’t feel like home.
Dad put on a fake smile and said, “You’ll love it here. You’ll make tons of new friends.”
I tried to believe him, but deep down, something didn’t feel right.
Not long after we settled in, a woman started showing up at the house a lot. One evening, Dad introduced her to me.
“Josh, this is Erika, a great friend of mine,” he said.
I gave her a polite smile and said, “Nice to meet you, Erika.”
But Erika barely even looked at me. She waved her hand carelessly and turned right to my dad.
“Ah, yes, sure. Owen, what are we having for dinner?” she said, completely ignoring me.
I was confused. Who was this woman? Why was she acting like I wasn’t even there? But Dad seemed happy when he was around her, and I didn’t want to ruin that.
Their relationship moved fast — too fast. Just a few months after Mom was “gone,” Dad married Erika. She moved into the house, and that’s when my nightmare truly began.
At first, I thought maybe things would get better. But Erika hated me. She shouted at me over everything — my homework, my messy room, the way I ate, even the way I breathed.
Nothing I did was ever right.
One day, when I spilled a little milk on the table, she exploded.
“God! You’re useless, just like your mother!” she screamed at me.
My heart froze. My hands tightened into fists.
“Don’t talk about my mother! Did you even know her?!” I yelled back, my voice shaking.
Erika sneered at me and snapped, “Of course, I knew her! Her sickness dragged your father down, and he had to leave!”
Just then, Dad came rushing in, hearing our shouting.
“Josh! What are you doing upsetting your new mother?!” he barked.
He whispered something in Erika’s ear — I couldn’t hear what — but she smirked like she’d won.
I stood my ground and said, “She started talking about my real mother!”
Dad’s face turned red. “Don’t talk back to me! Go to your room and finish your homework, NOW!” he roared.
“Fine!” I shouted, running up the stairs with tears stinging my eyes.
The years dragged on. Erika never warmed up to me. When I turned old enough to stay alone, they went on long vacations without me — like I was just a piece of trash they left behind.
I stopped caring about them. I counted the days until I could finally leave. I worked small jobs, saved every penny, and planned my escape.
But then Erika crossed the line.
One afternoon, I came home from school and found her standing in my bedroom. She was rifling through my stuff like it was hers.
“What are you doing?!” I snapped.
She rolled her eyes. “Cleaning up this mess. And this picture?” — she held up my favorite photo of my mom — “It has to go. I won’t have another woman’s face hanging in my house. It’s been years. Move on, Josh.”
I saw red.
“Don’t you dare touch that picture!” I shouted.
Erika smirked and said cruelly, “I’ll do whatever I want in my house! You’re just a brat. I can’t wait till you’re gone!”
“I can’t wait either! I’ll never have to see your nasty face again!” I yelled back.
Our screaming match got so loud that Dad came running in.
“What’s going on here?!” he demanded.
Erika put on her fake hurt face and said sweetly, “As usual, your son is causing trouble. And now he insulted me!”
Dad’s face twisted with anger.
“Josh! How many times do I have to tell you to respect your mother?!” he shouted.
I snapped.
“SHE’S NOT MY MOTHER! She’s an evil witch, and I hate her!” I screamed, tears pouring down my face.
I could tell Dad was about to hit me — I saw it in his eyes. But before he could, I acted fast. I grabbed my mother’s picture frame from Erika’s hands and bolted out the door.
I didn’t stop running until I reached the bus stop. Without thinking, I jumped on a random bus. Hours later, I realized I was back in our old hometown.
I walked the streets, searching for our old house. When I found it, it was barely recognizable. A new family lived there, their kids laughing and playing in the yard.
It hurt. My childhood felt like it had been stolen from me.
I wandered aimlessly through town until I saw a homeless woman sitting on a bench. She looked rough — clothes torn, hair messy — but something about her stopped me cold.
Her eyes. I would know those eyes anywhere.
Trembling, I walked up to her.
“Hello, ma’am,” I said nervously.
She looked up with tired eyes. “What can I do for you, young man?” she asked.
My heart pounded. Could it really be? Could this woman really be…?
“Are you… Emma Fraser?” I blurted out.
Her eyes widened. She stared at me like she’d seen a ghost.
“Do you know me?” she whispered.
Tears filled my eyes.
“I’m Josh,” I said.
She gasped and clutched her chest.
“Josh! Oh my God! My baby!” she cried, throwing her arms around me. I hugged her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder. We stayed like that, crying, for a long time.
When we finally pulled apart, I asked the question burning in my heart.
“Mom, what happened? Dad told me you were dead.”
Her face twisted with pain and anger.
“That evil scum!” she spat. “After you stopped visiting me at the hospital, I called and called, but no one answered. Then I found out he moved away and took you with him!”
I shook my head in disbelief. “He told me we had to move to forget you…”
She nodded bitterly. “He took all our savings, divorced me without even telling me, and somehow got full custody through his lawyers. I had no way to find you.”
I felt sick.
“I can’t believe he did that. Erika always hated me too,” I said, my voice breaking.
Mom hugged me again.
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You were just a little boy. I tried to find you, I spent everything I had, but… people don’t help homeless women. I almost gave up.”
I wiped my eyes and said firmly, “You don’t have to be homeless anymore. I’ve been saving money for years to get away from them.”
And that’s exactly what we did.
Since I was still underage, we couldn’t rent an apartment in my name. But Mom was an adult. Together, we found a small but cozy place and started fresh.
After high school, I got a job and started taking night classes. Mom slowly rebuilt her life too — she even got back into the career she had given up when she got sick.
The biggest change? I officially changed my last name to “Fraser,” Mom’s maiden name. I wanted no ties to my father ever again. He didn’t deserve to call me his son.
He stole so many years from us — but he couldn’t steal our bond.
What can we learn from this story?
The truth always comes out. Bad people might win for a while, but good eventually prevails.
Blood doesn’t make someone family. Love, loyalty, and respect do. Josh’s father cared about his “name,” but it meant nothing compared to the real bond between Josh and his mom.