Dad Faked Being Poor for Thirty Years
My darling had these custom-made, she said, waving a hand. He spoils me with so many gifts.
A diamond choker with a ruby the size of my thumbworth at least ten millionlay beside other treasures. I smiled professionally. "Your husband must love you deeply."
But as I checked the certificates, the signature made me freeze. Leila sipped her tea, eyes glinting. "Oh, I'm not his wife. We're just... first loves."
She leaned in, smiling. "He said he missed fifteen years of my life, so he bought fifteen gifts to make up for it. Romantic, isnt it?"
It was. But that same elegant signature had graced my report cards for years. It was my fathers, a man Id believed for thirty years was too unromantic to ever give my mother a single surprise.
1
Noticing my stunned silence, Leilas eyes narrowed with a hint of amusement. "Goes to show, you really do have to raise a girl with money. Otherwise, even when you're surrounded by luxury all day, seeing the real thing still leaves you speechless."
I ignored the barb in her voice and composed myself, offering a cool smile. "Ms. Elkin, I can offer eight million for the ruby. You've just taken over as director at FNB; why the sudden need to sell your collection?"
"Oh, I'm selling these to buy my love a birthday present," she explained, a dreamy look in her eyes. "He gave me this massive rock the other day. Do you have any watches in a similar price range?"
A desperate, sliver of hope flickered within me. Maybe it's just a coincidence. The same name, the same handwriting... it could happen.
"Could I perhaps see a photo of him?" I asked, my voice steady. "It would help me recommend a suitable style."
The moment she showed me the screen, that hope died.
There was my father, his arm wrapped tightly around Leila, a genuine, unbridled joy in his eyes that I had never seen before. At home, his face was a constant mask of stern solemnity. Here, he was alive.
"Ms. Lin, you've been staring at my man for quite a while," Leila said, snatching the phone back. Her tone was sharp with displeasure, and the massive diamond on her finger flashed, searing my eyes.
My parents had been married for thirty years.
Our family of three was crammed into a tiny one-bedroom apartment in the Barrens, the grimiest part of Cresthaven. The living room doubled as my bedroom, a space so small that the three of us couldn't walk around at the same time without bumping into each other.
And yet this was the man who could afford to shower Leila Elkin with custom haute couture jewelry.
Meanwhile, the only thing on my mothers hand was a thin, misshapen silver band.
"I was just struck by his devotion," I said, my voice carefully neutral. "To have stayed so faithful to you for all these years."
Leila let out a scornful laugh. "Oh, I know he got married after I left. I don't care. Love and obligation are two very different things." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides, back when I was leaving the country, I teased him. I said he had no masculine charm, just the smell of money. Do you know what the silly fool did?"
I didn't need to guess.
Because of Leilas casual joke, he had pretended to be poor for thirty years, never once using his wealth to ease our familys burden.
And because of one sweet murmur from her, he had instantly shed that disguise, ready to give her the world.
Her sprawling penthouse apartment, her powerful job at the networkit was all from him.
After settling on a watch for her, I stumbled home in a daze.
I pushed open the door to our cramped apartment.
My mother, her back slightly stooped, was navigating the tiny space, bumping into furniture. Her arms and waist were dappled with the faded purple of old bruises.
We were poor.
My fathers "salary" of two thousand a month was never enough. So, my mother worked as a cleaner for the wealthy. She was a beautiful woman, and she often came home in tears, having spent her day fending off the wandering hands of the men she worked for. She would cry, and then she would go back the next day.
My father never defended her. He would just say, "Life isn't a fairy tale, is it?"
So she learned to keep her head down, to make herself small, to become the hunched figure she was today.
Leila Elkin, on the other hand, always stood ramrod straight.
Because my father was the ground beneath her feet.
In my line of work, I dealt with the city's elite. I had connections. It didn't take much digging to uncover the truth.
My father wasn't just rich. He was powerful.
He was the secret owner of FNB.
I remembered when I was five and fell deathly ill. I watched my mother swallow every last shred of her dignity, getting on her knees to beg her employers for an advance on her wages.
The money wasn't enough. The surgery wasn't entirely successful.
To this day, my heart still seizes in my chest if I walk too fast.
Seeing me, my mothers tired face broke into a smile. "Sophie, I found a new client! She's paying so well. We'll be able to afford a new place for you soon!"
She had no idea.
My father had already bought someone else a new placea penthouse in the heart of downtown.
I looked at her, a lump forming in my throat. "Mom," I said, my voice thick. "I have something very important to tell you."
2
My mother sat on the sofamy bedwearing a faded, mended shirt. It was the only gift my father had ever given her.
"Sophie, what is it? Should I call your father?" she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "He just lost his job, you know. He's probably out pounding the pavement at the recruitment agencies."
Hed used that excuse to stay away from home for the past three days.
Meanwhile, Leila had just posted an update to her social media.
He said I needed to network, so he bought me a golf course.
My mother's hands were swollen and chapped from years of hard labor. The hands my father was holding in the photo were slender, pale, and perfectly manicured.
"Mom," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Dad is having an affair."
I couldn't meet her eyes. I just stared at the floor.
"Sophie, how can you say that about your father?" she protested, her voice rising. "He's just been away for a few days! He's doing it for us, for our family!"
I said nothing. I just unlocked my phone and showed her the photos Id taken today: the purchase authorizations for all those custom pieces.
The signature, the name, the ID number.
It was all him.
Then, I showed her more.
"Mom, Dad has been lying to us for thirty years. He's rich. He doesn't need to work. He has more money than we could ever imagine."
I watched as her shoulders began to tremble. Tears spilled from her eyes, silent and steady, soaking the front of her worn shirt.
Every month, my father gave her just enough to cover the barest of expenses. My school tuition was paid for with her humiliation, one degrading job at a time. She wasn't just a cleaner for the rich; she'd swept streets and scrubbed public toilets. She never took a day off.
She gave everything for our family.
But my father never gave her a single surprise. He even forgot their anniversary every year.
"In our situation, what's there to celebrate?" he'd always say.
And my mother, though her eyes held a flicker of hope, eventually learned to say nothing.
But he remembered every one of Leilas preferences. Every gift he gave her was steeped in meaning.
"Mom," I said, my voice cold and hard. I had to be cruel to be kind. "Leila was his first love. The only reason he pretended to be poor was because of a joke she made years ago."
I watched her face crumble as the screen glowed with undeniable proof.
"On your birthday, the fifteenth of this month, not only did he not get you a gift, he didn't even come home."
I took a shaky breath. "That was the day he was at a high-end auction, spending a fortune on a diamond for Leila."
My voice was getting tighter, strangled.
"Can't I just pretend I don't know?" she whispered, her voice choked with tears, interrupting me.
A surge of hot anger rushed through me. Even now, she wanted to protect him!
But then I heard her next words. "He's so rich you're his daughter. He'll look out for you. It's okay if he wants to divorce me, Sophie, as long as he takes care of you."
I hadn't planned on crying. But hearing that, I broke down completely.
The crushing weight of life had tamed my mother into a creature of infinite patience and forgiveness.
Meanwhile, Leila, coddled and adored by my father, got everything she ever wanted.
Why?
I wiped the tears from my mother's face. "No. If we divorce him, I'll make sure he leaves with nothing."
3
My mother was still hesitant.
"He's so powerful, Sophie. Can we really win against him?"
Poverty had made me a target for bullies when I was a child. My father never stood up for me, which taught me to fight my own battles and never back down.
He owed us. And I would make him pay back every single debt.
"Trust me, Mom," I said, my voice firm. "I've got this."
I tracked down the contact information for Diana Croft, the star anchor Leila had pushed out, and sent her a text.
I have a story that can get you your job back.
Her reply was instant. I'm listening.
But purchase receipts weren't enough to nail him for adultery. All of Leila's social media photos were carefully framed to hide his face.
So, I used the expensive watch as an excuse and arranged to deliver it to her at FNB studios myself.
When I arrived at her office, Leila was thrilled with the timepiece, immediately snapping photos of it. Then she took out her phone and sent a voice message.
"This is your birthday gift from me, darling. Will you come pick me up after work today?"
The reply came back as a voice note, too. Leila played it without a hint of shame.
"Leila, my love, just having you by my side is the greatest gift. You don't need to buy me things like this."
At that exact moment, my mother sent me a screenshot of her own text conversation.
Will you be home for your birthday? she had asked my father.
His reply: The best gift you could give me is to stop complaining and stop being so needy all the time.
Seeing me staring at my phone, Leila leaned back in her chair, a smirk on her face. "Envious of my love story, little girl? It's a shame, really. But what can you do? Blame your parents for not giving you a better start in life."
The irony was so thick I could choke on it.
My father hadn't given me a good start.
But he'd certainly given her one.
Walking through the FNB building earlier, I'd overheard employees whispering about her incompetence. The ratings had plummeted to less than half of what they were under Diana Croft.
"I'm launching a new segment," Leila announced, examining the watch. "Interviews with poor people like you. Should be fascinating, don't you think?" She picked up an alcohol wipe and began meticulously cleaning the watch I had just handed her, even though I'd worn gloves. Her eyes were filled with disdain, as if my very presence was contaminating her space.
Once she signed the confirmation receipt, I left.
I sat in a coffee shop across the street from the FNB tower for hours, waiting.
Finally, the workday ended.
Leila emerged, clicking down the steps in her sharp stilettos.
A sleek sports car pulled up to the curb. My father got out.
They fell into each other's arms, their lips meeting in a long, deep kiss. Leila leaned against his chest, laughing softly.
My face was a mask of ice as I raised my phone and captured photo after damning photo.
I showed them to my mother as soon as I got home. I needed to steel her resolve, to make sure she wouldn't beg him to come back.
In the past, she would try to be affectionate with him, to cuddle up to him, but he would always subtly push her away, a flicker of disgust in his eyes.
Now, looking at the pictures, she just smiled faintly. "I've already started looking at new apartments. Once the divorce is settled and we get the money, I can buy one outright."
But before I could package the evidence and send it to Diana, I got a call.
It was about my mother. There had been an incident.
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