My 18-year-old daughter fell in love with a 60-year-old man and was marrying him against my wishes. She claimed she was madly in love with this guy. I was shocked when I discovered a chilling truth about him.
The late afternoon sun bathed the living room as I sifted through mundane mail, the doorbell’s chime announcing Serena’s early arrival from her part-time job. She breezed in, her vibrant presence filling the space with energy and the scent of vanilla. I eagerly waited for this time of the month when she’d visit me.
“Hey, Dad! You won’t believe what happened with my roommate, Jessica…” Serena paused, sensing my unease. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Everything’s great. Come on in, honey.”
“So,” I began, “you were saying…”
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“Yeah, Dad. Actually…I met someone, and he’s like all nice and caring. Edison. Really loves me. We want to get married. But he’s…”
“But?”
“He’s sixty.”
The word ‘sixty’ hit me hard. My daughter, eighteen, with a man sixty — almost thrice her age? Concern and disbelief clouded my judgment. “Sixty, Serena? That’s… can’t you see the issue here?”
“Age doesn’t define love, Dad. Edison understands me, believes in me.”
“But what about the future, Serena? He’s much older.”
“Love isn’t about numbers, Dad. It’s about feeling seen, loved, cared for, and Edison makes me feel that way,” Serena’s voice trembled with conviction. “Please, can you at least meet him once? Trust me, you’ll love him.”
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I was shocked beyond words. Was Serena not realizing what she was talking about? Yet, I couldn’t refuse her. After all, what harm could a meeting do? I agreed to meet this Edison guy.
The next night at Edison’s, I needed a breather and went to the balcony. That’s when a snatch of conversation caught my ear. “Annie, come on now,” Edison’s voice, smooth and practiced, appeared. “I’m your brother. You know me well. It’s just a bit of harmless fun. A chance to win a little something extra.”
“This is reckless, Edison,” a woman’s voice, probably Annie’s, chided Edison. “You’re toying with that girl’s affections for some ‘harmless fun.'”
A cold dread twisted inside me. “What are you talking about?” Edison barked.
“The bet, Edison,” Annie hissed. “You think marrying a naive girl is easy money to clear your debts?”
My heart sank. Edison was using my daughter just for a bet. I was furious.
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I rushed back in and found Serena. “Serena, we’ve been fooled! It’s all a game to him!” I blurted out.
“Dad, what are you talking about?” Serena looked so confused and then shocked as I told her about the bet.
“He’s lying to you, Serena! He’s just using you,” I said, my voice cracking.
But Serena got defensive. “You’re making this up! You never liked Edison! Edison cares for me…unlike you, Dad. You were never around. After Mom passed, it was like you chose your job over me. I felt alone, not like I had a dad. I didn’t need those nannies and expensive boarding schools, Dad. I needed you.”
Her words stung, but I knew we had to deal with Edison’s deception first.
Then, I saw him entering the dining room. Edison. I just couldn’t contain myself any longer. I lost it and punched him in the face, yelling, “Stay away from her daughter, you creep!”
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But Serena was furious with me. “Stop it, Dad! It’s my life, not yours!” she yelled, pushing me back. I knew no matter what I said at that moment, Serena would not take my side. She was blinded by the fake love Edison had shown her.
I eventually left, heartbroken but not beaten. I had to save my daughter. So, I called a buddy of mine who’s a private investigator. A few days later, he gave me a report about Edison’s dark past of failures and gambling addiction.
This was my shot to show Serena the truth about Edison and get her back.
The report mentioned Duke R., Edison’s old business partner, who got left in the dust because of Edison’s mess-ups.
The report said Duke hung out at a place called Le Beans Café, a little diner outside of town. I grabbed the phone number listed for Duke and called him up.
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At Le Beans Café, under its dim lights, I met Duke. Life had been tough on him, but he was ready to spill everything about Edison’s gambling issues. He wanted to help me keep my daughter safe from Edison.
After meeting Duke that night, I went to Edison’s favorite casino, pretending to be “Parker,” a rich guy from Texas. I looked the part and had my story ready. Sitting down at Edison’s table, I smiled.
“Welcome, Parker. Big game tonight. Feeling lucky?”
I played my cards right, literally, and ended up winning with a royal flush, beating Edison’s hand. He tried to keep calm, but I could tell he was rattled.
“Looks like beginner’s luck,” Edison snarled.
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“Or maybe some of us just know how to play,” I said, smiling slowly as I let him realize who I was. “Surprised to see me, Edison?”
He went white, finally getting what was happening. “Billy? What’s this about?”
“It’s about Serena. Leave her alone, and we’re square,” I said firmly, not giving him a choice. “Or,” I added, “you can settle the debt right now. In cash. And let’s just say, I have some… unconventional methods of collecting outstanding debts.”
“Fine, I’ll stay away from her,” he said reluctantly.
I left the casino feeling like I’d won but also worried. Edison gave in too easily, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end of it with Serena.
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The next morning, fury surged through me as Serena’s voicemail played yet again. Why aren’t you answering my calls, honey? Desperation led me to call her friend, Sarah, who cheerfully informed me of Serena’s engagement party to Edison, a piece of news that left me reeling.
“Engagement party? With Edison?” I was shocked.
“Yes! Didn’t Serena tell you? You should come, Mr. Thompson. It’s at The Grand Springs, starts at eight,” Sarah replied, oblivious to my shock.
Arriving at The Grand Springs, I was met with the sight of Serena, radiant with happiness, and Edison, oozing charm among the guests. My heart raced as I approached Edison, my anger peaking.
“We need to talk, now,” I said, pulling him to the side.
“Now? During the party?” Edison smirked, but I wasn’t having it and dragged him into a quiet bathroom to have it out.
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“You think you can just waltz in and take my daughter’s life?” I accused, pressing him against the wall.
“She loves me. And your dirty little secrets? They could destroy you,” Edison shot back, hinting he knew things about me that could hurt me.
“But you’re not going to get her. Not on my watch!” I said, even though his threat to tell Serena about my past mistakes left me rattled.
“Two minutes, Thompson. Then I call security,” Edison warned, leaving me in turmoil. “You think you can stop this, Daddykins? She loves me. She wants me. And if you try anything, if she sees even a tiny scratch on me, she’ll turn her back on you forever. Is that what you want, Thompson? To be abandoned by your sweet daughter?”
No matter how much I hated that old creep, I had to admit he was right. Serena was already against me. I couldn’t afford to lose her forever.
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Defeated and heartbroken, I ended up outside, the bright city lights seeming to laugh at my inability to save Serena from Edison’s lies. I sat down on a bench, overwhelmed and hiding my face in my hands.
While I was lost in my own sadness, a cough caught my attention. Looking up, I saw a woman standing there, tall and with gray hair, looking kind of gentle in the faint light. “You’re Mr. Thompson, right?” she asked quietly.
“Annie? Edison’s sister?” I was surprised to recognize her.
She gave a small smile. “Yes, we’ve seen each other before… At Edison’s, when you tried to save your daughter,” she reminded me.
I quickly told her all about the mess with Edison and how he was tricking Serena. “And you’re aware of it, too, right?”
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“That conniving weasel,” Annie finally spat. “He’s wasted everything — our inheritance, my savings from years of theatrical performances… all gone to feed his gambling addiction.”
“We could stop him,” I said, feeling she might want to help.
“What do you have in mind?” Annie asked.
I explained my plan to her and even offered her some money as a start. “Consider this a start,” I said.
“I’m listening,” she said, interested.
So, we went ahead with our plan at the wedding. Annie was there pretending to be just another guest. Right as Edison was putting the ring on Serena’s finger, a young woman stood up and yelled, “He’s a liar!”
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Then another woman stood up, telling her story about Edison’s lies. More people started speaking up, all exposing Edison’s evil deeds.
Edison tried to deny it. “No, they’re lying! I don’t even know them,” he said, but he was falling apart as everyone saw his true colors.
Our plan worked. The wedding turned into a place where all of Edison’s lies were laid bare for everyone to see.
In a moment filled with tension, an older woman approached Serena.
“Don’t fall for his tricks, dear. He’s nothing but trouble. Get away from him while you can! I’ve been a victim, too,” the woman said firmly. Watching through a video call, I saw Serena’s world fall apart as she threw her wedding ring away, her dream of happiness shattered.
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This was the climax of the plan I had made with Annie and her group of actors to show everyone who Edison really was. Serena ran out of the church, clearly hurt, but it was the only way to save her from a terrible mistake.
Then, things got even more serious when the police showed up to arrest Edison, making it clear he was finally going to face the consequences of his actions. Although it cost me a lot to get Annie’s help, seeing my daughter free from Edison was worth every penny.
When I met Serena at her place later, it was a very emotional moment. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you,” she cried.
I held her and showed her a plane ticket to Boston, to remind her of her dream of studying fashion design. “It’s time to start over, to chase your dream,” I told her.
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She looked at me, grateful and hopeful. “Thanks, Dad. I love you,” she said.
This whole ordeal reminded me how important it is to be there for our kids and to do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
If only I’d been there for Serena, she’d never have fallen for someone like Edison. I had learned a huge lesson and decided to make my daughter my priority.
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I Spent Weeks Trying to Catch the Thief in My Store, and When I Did, I Discovered a Secret That Had Been Hidden from Me for Years — Story of the Day
For weeks, I stayed up late, watching camera footage and setting traps, determined to catch the person stealing from my small grocery store. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found when I finally caught them—a truth that had been hidden from me for long years.
At my age, most people were thinking about retirement, buying a little house in Florida, or taking long vacations. But not me.
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I was thinking about how to make my store better. When you owned a business, especially a small grocery store like mine, there was no such thing as rest. I had run this store for many years.
Over time, new shops had opened nearby, and competition had grown, but I never gave up.
I worked hard to make my store more than just a place to buy food. I wanted people to feel welcome, like they were visiting an old friend.
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Some of my customers had been coming for twenty or even thirty years. I watched them grow up, fall in love, and start families.
Then their kids started coming in—and that meant the world to me. It meant I had done something right.
But recently, something felt off. I started noticing little things missing from the shelves.
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Not just one or two items, but enough to make me wonder. I stocked everything myself, so I knew what was there. Something was definitely wrong.
Mr. Green came up to the register with a small basket in his hand. He gave me a friendly smile. “How are you doing today, Margaret?” he asked.
“I’m doing fine, thank you. How about you?” I said with a smile.
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“I’m good,” he said. “But I noticed something. There’s not much dairy on the shelves. You usually have the best selection in town.”
I looked at him, surprised. “That can’t be right. I filled the whole section just yesterday. Every last shelf.”
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Maybe you missed something. Or maybe it’s time to slow down. You ever think about handing the store over to someone else? Do you have kids?”
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His words hit me hard. I froze for a moment, then looked straight at him. I didn’t smile this time. “Goodbye, Mr. Green,” I said firmly. I bagged his items and handed them to him without another word.
As if! I still had plenty of strength. Mr. Green acted like I was ready for a rocking chair and soft food. I was not even sixty yet!
I worked hard every day, lifting boxes, sweeping floors, and dealing with customers. But his words touched a spot deep inside me. A place I tried to keep buried.
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Children.
I had a daughter once. Just one. She ran away from home fifteen years ago. No phone call. No goodbye. Just a note.
She said she was leaving to start a new life. I searched for her everywhere. I called the police, but they said she left on her own, so it was not their job.
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That made me so angry. She was my child. She was still so young. How could they not help?
I shook my head and forced myself back to the present. I walked to the dairy fridge. It was still early, and hardly anyone had come in yet.
But I saw the truth with my own eyes—many items were missing. Yogurt, milk, cheese—whole rows gone.
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It was not just forgetfulness or bad math. Someone was stealing from me.
I always trusted people. That was why I never installed cameras. I believed people were good. I believed they would do the right thing. But now, I had no choice.
The next day, I had cameras installed. It cost me a good bit, but I had to protect my store. The day after that, I sat at the back counter and watched the footage.
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At first, it looked normal. The store was dark and still. But then, a figure appeared. They moved quickly and quietly, taking things off the shelves.
They wore a hood pulled low over their face. I clicked through the video, hoping to see a face, but I never did. Somehow, they stayed hidden.
Still, I knew I had to do something. I put the footage on a flash drive and drove to the police station.
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I walked up to the front desk and told the officer on duty what had happened.
He led me to a small room and plugged in the footage. He watched the screen with a bored look on his face.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “what do you want from us?”
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I stared at him. “What do I want? I want you to do your job. Someone is breaking into my store and stealing my products. I want you to find out who it is.”
He pointed at the screen. “You can’t even see their face. They’re wearing a hood the whole time. We don’t have anything to go on.”
I felt my hands tighten. “But that’s your job!”
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“My advice? Get an alarm system,” the officer said.
I scoffed, grabbed the footage, and walked out of the station. As if! Giving me advice like I was some lost old lady.
But still, I went ahead and had the alarm system installed. I did not want to take any more chances.
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For a few days, things seemed better. Nothing went missing. The shelves stayed full. I started to breathe easier.
Then, one morning, I walked in and froze. Again, shelves were empty. Not everything, but enough to notice. Yet the alarm had not gone off. My stomach turned.
As I stood by the fridge, Mr. Green walked by with a little shake of his head. “Your selection keeps getting smaller and smaller,” he said. “Maybe my wife and I should start going to another store.”
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Those words stung. My heart pounded. I could not lose customers. This store was my life. It paid my bills and kept a roof over my head.
If I could not stop this thief, I could lose everything. If no one would help me, then I would help myself.
That night, I closed the shop like always, turned off the lights, and walked out the front door.
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But I did not go home. I circled around to the back, unlocked the rear door, and slipped inside. I crouched behind the counter and waited.
It was quiet. Too quiet. I almost dozed off, but then I heard it—the door creaked, and the alarm beeped off.
My heart jumped. I peeked up and saw the same figure moving around the aisles.
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Small, quick, quiet. I crept forward. Step by step. Then I lunged and grabbed the hoodie.
“Got you!” I yelled.
The person dropped everything and struggled. I pulled back the hood. He was just a boy. Fourteen, maybe. Thin. Scared. His eyes locked with mine.
He had her eyes.
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“Who are you? Why are you stealing from me?” I asked.
He did not answer. He pulled down the zipper, slipped out of the hoodie, and ran. I tried to follow but could not. I stood there, breathing hard, holding the hoodie in my hands.
Those eyes. I knew them. They belonged to my daughter. How was that possible? Could he be…?
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After I caught the boy red-handed, the thefts stopped completely, but I could not stop thinking about him.
Every time I looked at the shelves or walked through the store, my mind went back to that night. I kept seeing his face, those eyes that reminded me so much of my daughter.
I felt torn. He was just a child, and part of me wanted to go to the police, but the other part needed to know who he was and why he looked so familiar.
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One evening, as I was driving home from work, I saw a figure in a hoodie coming out of a closed store.
My heart skipped a beat. Was it him? I watched as he walked over to a bicycle, took some groceries out of his hoodie, and put them into a backpack.
He kept his hood up the whole time. I stayed in my car and decided to follow him. I knew if I tried to talk to him, he would run again.
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I kept a safe distance as he rode through the streets. After a while, he stopped near a small but tidy house.
He parked his bicycle behind it and went inside. I sat for a moment, holding the same hoodie he had left behind in my store.
My hands were shaking as I got out of the car and walked to the front door. I knocked softly. No one came. I waited. I was about to leave when I heard footsteps approaching.
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Then the door opened.
And there she was—my daughter. I froze. She looked older, tired maybe, but it was her. My heart almost stopped.
She was no longer the girl who had run away from me. She was a grown woman now, standing in the doorway, staring at me in shock.
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“Alice…” I whispered, my voice barely coming out. My hands were still shaking.
She blinked like she was seeing a ghost. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
I looked into her eyes. They were the same, even after all these years. “So you were nearby all this time, and I couldn’t find you.”
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She looked down. “Not the whole time. I moved around a lot. That’s not important now. Why are you here? How did you find me?”
I didn’t answer right away. I reached into my bag and held up the boy’s hoodie.
Her eyes widened. “Where did you get Travis’s hoodie?”
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Before I could speak, the boy—the same one who stole from my store—appeared in the hallway.
“Mom! Close the door!” he shouted, his voice full of fear.
Alice turned to him. “What? What’s going on?”
I stepped forward. “Travis was stealing from my store.”
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“WHAT?!” she shouted. Her face turned red with shock.
“Please don’t call the police,” Travis said, his voice shaking. “I promise I won’t steal from your store again.”
“I know,” I said softly. “But I saw you today. You were stealing from another store.”
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Alice turned to him, her voice sharp. “Travis, what is this? Why would you steal?”
He looked down at the floor. “Because you work so much. We never have enough money. I wanted to help.”
“So you thought stealing was the answer?” she shouted.
“I sold the stuff. I gave you the money in secret. I thought I was helping,” he said.
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Alice covered her face with her hands. “That is not how we solve problems. Stealing is wrong, Travis. Always.”
She looked at me. Her voice was quieter now. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll handle it. He won’t do it again. Please don’t turn him in to the police.”
She reached for the door, but I held it.
“That’s it?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you in fifteen years, and you have nothing more to say? Who is Travis? Is he your son?”
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Alice nodded. Tears filled her eyes. “Yes. He’s my son.”
“May I come in?” I asked, almost in a whisper.
She paused. Then she stepped aside and let me in.
She led me to a small kitchen. I sat down and looked around. It was neat but worn.
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“If you were having money problems, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you ask for help?” I asked.
“Because I was ashamed,” she said.
“I searched for you. I waited fifteen years. I didn’t know you even had a child,” I said.
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“I was already pregnant when I left. That was one of the reasons. You told me to stay away from Travis’s father. You were right. He was no good. But I didn’t listen. He left me soon after,” Alice said.
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
“Because I was ashamed. I thought you hated me.”
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“Oh, Alice,” I said, standing and walking to her. “You’re my daughter. How could I ever hate you?”
I gently wrapped my arms around her, and she held me just as tight. We both cried without saying a word.
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All the pain from the past seemed to melt in that moment. It felt like coming home after being lost for years.
After we calmed down, Alice turned to Travis and scolded him firmly. She made it clear that stealing was never the answer. He nodded, ashamed.
Still, I looked at him with something close to gratitude. I kept thanking him in my heart. If he had not taken from me, I would never have found my family again.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Feeling unappreciated and exhausted, I decided to take a break from my marriage and clear my head. But when my car broke down miles from home, I found myself stranded at a small motel. What started as a simple getaway soon led to an unexpected reunion — one that changed everything. Read the full story here.
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