Anything can happen when you start a family, and trying to parent even grown kids can become a huge pain. In these tales, a father has to find his missing daughter and can’t believe what he encountered on his quest, a mother returns home to an empty place after trusting a neighbor, and another father learns that humanity is much better than he imagined, even on a plane. Let’s find out more!
1. My Daughter Vanished So I Had to Track Her Phone and Went Speechless at What I Discovered
I sat at my grand dining table, eating mechanically while glancing at my phone frequently. I was waiting for a response from Catherine, my daughter, who hadn’t answered my calls for three days. Sighing, I redialed her number, only to be met with silence.
Gazing at a photo of my late wife, Caroline, I mused, “My dear Caroline. If only you were around, you could help Catherine and me find a common language.”
The loss of Caroline had deepened the rift between Catherine and me, especially since I had immersed myself in work to cope with the grief. I remembered my recent call with her, though. I had excitedly offered her a job opportunity through a businessman friend after she finished university.
However, Catherine wasn’t happy. “You’re deciding my fate for me again!” she’d exclaimed. “I never wanted to go to that university. You know I always wanted to dance, to follow my passion. But you made me give it up, forced me into a life I never chose!”
With that, she hung up, leaving me to grapple with the reality of our strained relationship.
Feeling a deep sense of loss and realizing how little I knew about Catherine’s life and dreams, I now called my business partner, Alan, for any information.
“I’m a bit worried about Catherine,” I said on the phone. “She hasn’t been answering my calls. Have you seen her? You’re overseeing operations in the same town where she’s studying, so I’m assuming you might have crossed paths.”
“I haven’t seen Catherine for a while, Peter,” Alan responded. “She’s pretty independent, you know. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Alan. I appreciate it.”
I ended the call, feeling more helpless than before.
Eventually, I called her university. “I’m calling about my daughter, Catherine G—” I said, tired and worried.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Greenwood, but there’s no student by that name enrolled at our university,” the university official replied, leaving me in shock. I somehow thanked her and ended the call. I didn’t understand what was happening. How could Catherine not be enrolled at the university? I was sending her tuition money every semester.
Confused and worried, I decided to visit the police station. I met Officer Mount and explained everything. “My daughter, Catherine, is missing. She hasn’t responded to my calls, and she’s not registered at the university…” I also told him I’d been sending her funds, thinking she was busy building her career.
“Do you know her friends or anyone she might spend time with?” Officer Mount asked.
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Mr. Greenwood, it sounds like your daughter might just need some space. You know how kids are these days,” the officer suggested. And I believed him for a moment. After all, I knew Catherine was upset with me.
But if she was ignoring me simply due to a heated conversation and not caring about how stressed I was because I could not get in touch with her, I would make her realize how wrong she was!
Determined, I returned home and called Simon, a programmer in my company known for his hacking abilities. “Simon, it’s Peter. I need your help to track my daughter’s phone,” I urgently requested.
“Mr. Greenwood, you know that’s not exactly… legal, right?”
“I’m aware, Simon. But I’m desperate,” I insisted. “There’s a good reward if you just help me!”
Agreeing to help, Simon soon arrived at my house and started tracking Catherine’s phone. After intense focus and rapid keystrokes, he finally located her. “I managed to trace her phone. She’s at a nightclub called the Red Moon,” he informed me.
I gazed at the computer screen. “This nightclub is in the same town where she’s studying,” I murmured, scanning the address.
“Can you track her night activities?” I asked urgently.
“It’s complex; I’d need to track her movement patterns. But I can access her phone camera for real-time insights,” Simon replied hesitantly.
“Do it,” I urged.
Minutes later, a live feed showed Catherine dancing provocatively on stage in a nightclub surrounded by strip poles. “It can’t be,” I whispered, shocked.
The sound of a woman’s voice filled the room, encouraging Catherine. My heart sank, as I closed my eyes. When Simon left, I decided to go to my daughter’s college town.
Driving through the night to the town where I’d sent my daughter to study, I was haunted by the thoughts of the video and my daughter’s secret life. I couldn’t help but think about the money, about $200,000 in total, that I had sent over four years, believing it was for her education.
As dawn broke, I arrived in the city, tired but determined. When I reached the club, I found it closed, but the club’s manager was just arriving to start the day. I approached the woman.
“Hi, I’m Peter. I’m looking for my daughter, Catherine, a dancer here,” I explained.
The woman shook her head. “We don’t employ dancers like that. This is a regular nightclub.”
I insisted, “I saw her in a video. She was dancing here, on stage.”
The woman thought for a moment. “You must mean ‘Dancing Queen.’ They were here for a private event. They’re not part of our regular staff.”
My eyes widened. “Dancing Queen? Can you give me their contact?”
The woman smiled slightly. “They’re well-known around here. Just search ‘Dancing Queen’ online. You’ll find all you need.”
I did that. Online, I discovered numerous images of Catherine with ‘Dancing Queen.’ I saw her in a different light then, overwhelmed by shame. Then my gaze landed on a contact number for bookings.
I called the group’s manager, Amanda. “I’m Chuck. I’d like to book your group for my birthday,” I lied, feeling the sweat down my back.
Amanda’s voice was cheerful. “Sure, Chuck. When do you need us?”
“January 13. But first, can I see a rehearsal?” I inquired.
“Absolutely! We start in two hours. I’ll text you the address,” Amanda replied.
I watched Catherine perform with grace and energy at their rehearsal dance hall. Our eyes met; she stopped and approached me.
“So, you’re Chuck, huh?” Catherine asked, surprised yet defiant.
I had no time for games. “You’ve lied about going to university! What did you do with the money?”
“I used it for living and starting ‘Dancing Queen.’ I’ll pay you back,” Catherine retorted.
“You’re running Dancing Queen?” I was shocked.
“Yes, we’re successful,” she affirmed.
“You’re a stripper! Is this the life you wanted?”
“I’m not a stripper, Dad! It’s about talent, not selling my body,” Catherine countered.
“What would your mother say—”
“Don’t bring Mom into this,” she spat. “She would’ve understood me!”
The ringing of Catherine’s phone cut through our argument. I saw Alan’s face on the screen, labeled “My Love.”
“Is that Alan? And he’s ‘My Love’ on your phone? Are you two together?” I asked in shock and disbelief.
“Yes, for three years now. He even proposed to me recently!”
I clutched my head, reeling from the revelation. “I can’t believe this. What happened to you, Catherine?”
Before she could respond, her phone rang again. It was Alan. She answered, forgetting her phone was still connected to the speakers. Everyone in the hall heard Alan’s voice. “Hello, dear, I’m outside. I got off work early. Let’s have lunch.”
Fueled by pure rage, I dashed downstairs.
“Dad, stop! What are you doing?”
Outside, I spotted Alan’s car. I rushed over, flung open the door, and faced the traitor I thought was my friend. “How could you? With my daughter?”
Alan and I screamed, hurling accusations and insults at each other until Catherine arrived.
“I don’t want to see you, Dad! You try to control everything,” she declared before leaving with my ex-friend.
***
The next day, I followed Alan. I drove to his office building and waited until he got in his car and drove away. After a few minutes, I found myself near a modest home from which another woman, a dancer from “Dancing Queen,” emerged.
My jaw went slack as I witnessed him kissing that strange woman. Once again, rage coursed through my body. I marched to his car, and my fist throbbed as I pounded on the window.
“Relax, Peter,” Alan calmly said as he stepped out.
“You’re cheating on my daughter! She deserves the truth!” I accused.
Alan smirked. “She won’t find out. If you tell Catherine, I’ll expose your siphoning of company funds. I have all the proof.”
Stunned, I realized my illegal activities could ruin me.
Alan’s smirk grew wider. “And one more thing, Peter. Maybe this will help you see things more clearly. Catherine is so good in bed. Far better than this girl,” he whispered maliciously before he got into his car and drove away.
But I wouldn’t let someone like Alan ruin my life.
The next day, I approached his house, not sure what to do but knowing I couldn’t let him keep messing with my daughter. I watched Catherine leave for dance practice and then, I approached the door. He greeted me with sarcasm.
“Here to fight again?” Alan asked.
“No, I want to talk about our future dealings,” I replied.
With another smirk, Alan welcomed me inside.
We settled in the living room.
I looked around, curious. “This is a nice place. Mind showing me around?”
Alan stood up. “Sure, let’s go.”
I composed myself as my plan settled. While looking around the wine cellar in the basement, I locked Alan inside. Then, with trembling hands, I set the kitchen on fire.
The flames had just taken full force when Catherine returned, apparently forgetting her phone. Her eyes widened at the fire, and I didn’t stop her from reaching for the extinguisher and rushing to save Alan.
“He tried to kill me!” Alan coughed as he emerged from the basement.
“He’s cheating on you with one of your teammates! I saw him kissing another girl!” I said.
Shocked, Catherine rebuked us both and left, not wanting to deal with this mess. After she left, Alan glared at me. “My house has CCTV everywhere. It’s all recorded—your illegal activities. I’ll show the investors and the police. You’re looking at prison time,” he announced, smirking again.
I shivered, realizing I was recorded. My plan had disastrously backfired.
Alan added, “You have one way out. I’ll be out of your daughter’s life forever. Bring me a million dollars in two days, or else…”
“What? But… I don’t have that kind of money! I can get 600 thousand, but that’s all.”
“Bring what you have and get out!” Alan sneered.
Unable to do anything else, I left and drove to a hotel. I repeatedly called Catherine, but she didn’t answer. I realized the gravity of my situation: trapped and desperate. In my hotel room, I called Catherine again, sending a text about Alan’s blackmail. Still, no response.
Feeling helpless, I turned to liquor, numbing my fear of prison. My thoughts swirled with regret and fear. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until a knock at the door woke me up.
I thought it was the police, but I answered the door to find Catherine holding a black bag, her eyes welling up.
“Cat, I’m so glad you’re back,” I said, stepping forward to hug her.
But Catherine stepped back, offering the bag. “Here’s 400,000 dollars. I earned this by doing something you never believed in. Take this money, but I don’t want you in my life anymore,” she said, her voice breaking.
Speechless, I took the bag with shaking hands.
And then, Catherine walked away from my life forever. I slumped to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks. The room felt colder, and emptier, as I sat there, holding the bag of money.
