I stared down at the paper. It was thick legal language. I was used to it by now, but that didn’t mean I understood it. Still, I skimmed through it. Paragraph three hit me like a punch to the face: she was trying to claim a share of my company.
A frowning young man holding a stack of documents | Source: Midjourney
A frowning young man holding a stack of documents | Source: Midjourney
LaunchPad. The thing I’d built from scratch. The thing that existed in her absence.
I looked up at her and, for the first time, I really saw her for what she was. The practiced tone, the empty smile, and the cool, deliberate way she stood like a guest, not a mother.
She wasn’t here for reconciliation; she was here for what she thought she could gain.
“I think I finally get it now,” I said quietly.
My dad stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me, not her.
An upset man standing outside | Source: Midjourney
An upset man standing outside | Source: Midjourney
“Blood doesn’t make a parent, Jessica,” I said, holding the DNA test like it might catch fire. “My dad raised me. He loved me more than anything. And he taught me how to be a man. You’re nothing but a stranger.”
“You can’t just—” she began, her expression shifted, disbelief bleeding into anger.
“I can,” I said. “And I am.”
I handed her back the document, unsigned.
“You left me once without thinking about the consequences. This time, I’m the one closing the door.”
She tried to recover, throwing words at me. Something about rights, family, and second chances, but I wasn’t listening.
A young man standing by a door | Source: Midjourney
A young man standing by a door | Source: Midjourney
The kitchen smelled like garlic and thyme, the kind of comfort that sneaks into your chest before you realize how badly you need it. My dad had disappeared into the backyard after Jessica left.
I knew he needed a moment to himself, especially after the bombshell she’d dropped.
Now, I stood at the stove stirring our favorite comfort food: lamb stew.
“You didn’t have to cook, Dyl,” he said from the doorway.
Garlic and thyme on a wooden board | Source: Midjourney
Garlic and thyme on a wooden board | Source: Midjourney
“I needed to do something with my hands, Dad,” I replied. “And I figured you could use something warm.”
He gave a short nod.
“She waited 22 years to drop that one on you,” he said, walking over to stir the pot.
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