I Applauded My Dad’s Betrayal / Chapter 3: When Strangers Move In
I Applauded My Dad’s Betrayal

I Applauded My Dad’s Betrayal

Author: Grace Davis

Chapter 3: When Strangers Move In

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Just like last time, Dad snuck Megan and her sons into the house in the middle of the night. They made a racket until dawn. I barely slept, lying in bed, listening to their laughter echoing down the hall.

The two boys were completely out of control, poking around everywhere in their new home.

They treated the house like their personal playground—climbing on furniture, rifling through drawers, leaving a trail of chaos wherever they went. Megan watched with a smile, never lifting a finger to stop them. I gritted my teeth, counting the hours until they’d leave.

The next morning, I woke up to find them drawing all over my $10,000 painting. When they saw me, they made faces and ran off.

The sight of crayon marks across my prized painting made my blood boil.

The cleaning lady called me in a panic, her voice tight with frustration. I could barely process her words as she described the mess. I felt a migraine coming on just picturing it.

Imagine coming home to a beautiful white marble floor covered in... that!

The stench hit me the moment I walked in.

I had to open every window, but it barely helped. I felt like burning the whole place down just to get rid of the smell.

The cleaning lady glared at me. "Look, that’s extra. Five hundred—no haggling. Or you can mop it yourself."

She crossed her arms, daring me to argue.

"..."

I just stared, speechless.

Dad looked proud. "What's the big deal? Boys need to mark their territory—that's how you know they're tough!"

He ruffled the twins’ hair, beaming.

The little brats stuck their tongues out at me, grinning.

They seemed to enjoy the chaos, daring me to do something about it.

I suddenly thought, if I left a pile on their heads, wouldn't that make me even tougher?

The thought made me snort.

Maybe next time.

For now, I just made a mental note to lock up anything valuable—or breakable.

At dinner, I could barely eat—there was a lingering stench in the house.

The smell clung to everything, making the food taste off.

Megan sat in Mom's old seat, smiling at me and my wife. "Caleb, Autumn, don't be shy. We're all family now. Anything, just let us know."

Her voice was syrupy sweet. I could see right through her act.

I blurted out, "So, when are you leaving?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"Huh?" Dad and Megan looked at me in surprise.

Their faces froze, caught off guard.

"Kidding."

If she really had any sense, she'd take those two fatherless brats and get out. What decent kids run wild in the house in the middle of the night, screaming and crying like banshees? So annoying!

Dad spoiled them rotten—calling them his 'precious sons,' giving them extra chicken legs, and insisting my three-year-old daughter call them 'Uncle'—as if that made sense.

Every meal was a spectacle—Dad heaping food onto the twins’ plates, beaming with pride. He corrected Madison every time she slipped up, his voice sharp. It made my blood boil.

No way was I letting Madison call them that.

I pulled her aside, whispering in her ear that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to.

Uncle? Please. I don’t need snot-nosed, brainless 'uncles' like that!

I rolled my eyes, making sure Madison saw.

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